The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mysterious Island, by Jules Verne
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Title: The Mysterious Island
Author: Jules Verne
Release Date: August 24, 2008 [EBook #1268]
Last Updated: January 9, 2013
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND ***
Produced by Anthony Matonak, Trevor Carlson, and David Widger

PART 1—DROPPED FROM THE CLOUDS

Chapter 1

"Are we rising again?" "No. On the contrary." "Are we descending?" "Worse
than that, captain! we are falling!" "For Heaven's sake heave out the
ballast!" "There! the last sack is empty!" "Does the balloon rise?" "No!"
"I hear a noise like the dashing of waves. The sea is below the car! It
cannot be more than 500 feet from us!" "Overboard with every weight! ...
everything!"

Such were the loud and startling words which resounded through the air,
above the vast watery desert of the Pacific, about four o'clock in the
evening of the 23rd of March, 1865.

Few can possibly have forgotten the terrible storm from the northeast, in
the middle of the equinox of that year. The tempest raged without
intermission from the 18th to the 26th of March. Its ravages were terrible
in America, Europe, and Asia, covering a distance of eighteen hundred
miles, and extending obliquely to the equator from the thirty-fifth north
parallel to the fortieth south parallel. Towns were overthrown, forests
uprooted, coasts devastated by the mountains of water which were
precipitated on them, vessels cast on the shore, which the published
accounts numbered by hundreds, whole districts leveled by waterspouts
which destroyed everything they passed over, several thousand people
crushed on land or drowned at sea; such were the traces of its fury, left
by this devastating tempest. It surpassed in disasters those which so
frightfully ravaged Havana and Guadalupe, one on the 25th of October,
1810, the other on the 26th of July, 1825.

But while so many catastrophes were taking place on land and at sea, a
drama not less exciting was being enacted in the agitated air.

In fact, a balloon, as a ball might be carried on the summit of a
waterspout, had been taken into the circling movement of a column of air
and had traversed space at the rate of ninety miles an hour, turning round
and round as if seized by some aerial maelstrom.

Beneath the lower point of the balloon swung a car, containing five
passengers, scarcely visible in the midst of the thick vapor mingled with
spray which hung over the surface of the ocean.

Whence, it may be asked, had come that plaything of the tempest? From what
part of the world did it rise? It surely could not have started during the
storm. But the storm had raged five days already, and the first symptoms
were manifested on the 18th. It cannot be doubted that the balloon came
from a great distance, for it could not have traveled less than two
thousand miles in twenty-four hours.

At any rate the passengers, destitute of all marks for their guidance,
could not have possessed the means of reckoning the route traversed since
their departure. It was a remarkable fact that, although in the very midst
of the furious tempest, they did not suffer from it. They were thrown
about and whirled round and round without feeling the rotation in the
slightest degree, or being sensible that they were removed from a
horizontal position.

Their eyes could not pierce through the thick mist which had gathered
beneath the car. Dark vapor was all around them. Such was the density of
the atmosphere that they could not be certain whether it was day or night.
No reflection of light, no sound from inhabited land, no roaring of the
ocean could have reached them, through the obscurity, while suspended in
those elevated zones. Their rapid descent alone had informed them of the
dangers which they ran from the waves. However, the balloon, lightened of
heavy articles, such as ammunition, arms, and provisions, had risen into
the higher layers of the atmosphere, to a height of 4,500 feet. The
voyagers, after having discovered that the sea extended beneath them, and
thinking the dangers above less dreadful than those below, did not
hesitate to throw overboard even their most useful articles, while they
endeavored to lose no more of that fluid, the life of their enterprise,
which sustained them above the abyss.

The night passed in the midst of alarms which would have been death to
less energetic souls. Again the day appeared and with it the tempest began
to moderate. From the beginning of that day, the 24th of March, it showed
symptoms of abating. At dawn, some of the lighter clouds had risen into
the more lofty regions of the air. In a few hours the wind had changed
from a hurricane to a fresh breeze, that is to say, the rate of the
transit of the atmospheric layers was diminished by half. It was still
what sailors call "a close-reefed topsail breeze," but the commotion in
the elements had none the less considerably diminished.

Towards eleven o'clock, the lower region of the air was sensibly clearer.
The atmosphere threw off that chilly dampness which is felt after the
passage of a great meteor. The storm did not seem to have gone farther to
the west. It appeared to have exhausted itself. Could it have passed away
in electric sheets, as is sometimes the case with regard to the typhoons
of the Indian Ocean?

But at the same time, it was also evident that the balloon was again
slowly descending with a regular movement. It appeared as if it were,
little by little, collapsing, and that its case was lengthening and
extending, passing from a spherical to an oval form. Towards midday the
balloon was hovering above the sea at a height of only 2,000 feet. It
contained 50,000 cubic feet of gas, and, thanks to its capacity, it could
maintain itself a long time in the air, although it should reach a great
altitude or might be thrown into a horizontal position.

Perceiving their danger, the passengers cast away the last articles which
still weighed down the car, the few provisions they had kept, everything,
even to their pocket-knives, and one of them, having hoisted himself on to
the circles which united the cords of the net, tried to secure more firmly
the lower point of the balloon.

It was, however, evident to the voyagers that the gas was failing, and
that the balloon could no longer be sustained in the higher regions. They
must infallibly perish!

There was not a continent, nor even an island, visible beneath them. The
watery expanse did not present a single speck of land, not a solid surface
upon which their anchor could hold.

It was the open sea, whose waves were still dashing with tremendous
violence! It was the ocean, without any visible limits, even for those
whose gaze, from their commanding position, extended over a radius of
forty miles. The vast liquid plain, lashed without mercy by the storm,
appeared as if covered with herds of furious chargers, whose white and
disheveled crests were streaming in the wind. No land was in sight, not a
solitary ship could be seen. It was necessary at any cost to arrest their
downward course, and to prevent the balloon from being engulfed in the
waves. The voyagers directed all their energies to this urgent work. But,
notwithstanding their efforts, the balloon still fell, and at the same
time shifted with the greatest rapidity, following the direction of the
wind, that is to say, from the northeast to the southwest.

Frightful indeed was the situation of these unfortunate men. They were
evidently no longer masters of the machine. All their attempts were
useless. The case of the balloon collapsed more and more. The gas escaped
without any possibility of retaining it. Their descent was visibly
accelerated, and soon after midday the car hung within 600 feet of the
ocean.

It was impossible to prevent the escape of gas, which rushed through a
large rent in the silk. By lightening the car of all the articles which it
contained, the passengers had been able to prolong their suspension in the
air for a few hours. But the inevitable catastrophe could only be
retarded, and if land did not appear before night, voyagers, car, and
balloon must to a certainty vanish beneath the waves.

They now resorted to the only remaining expedient. They were truly
dauntless men, who knew how to look death in the face. Not a single murmur
escaped from their lips. They were determined to struggle to the last
minute, to do anything to retard their fall. The car was only a sort of
willow basket, unable to float, and there was not the slightest
possibility of maintaining it on the surface of the sea.

Two more hours passed and the balloon was scarcely 400 feet above the
water.

At that moment a loud voice, the voice of a man whose heart was
inaccessible to fear, was heard. To this voice responded others not less
determined. "Is everything thrown out?" "No, here are still 2,000 dollars
in gold." A heavy bag immediately plunged into the sea. "Does the balloon
rise?" "A little, but it will not be long before it falls again." "What
still remains to be thrown out?" "Nothing." "Yes! the car!" "Let us catch
hold of the net, and into the sea with the car."

This was, in fact, the last and only mode of lightening the balloon. The
ropes which held the car were cut, and the balloon, after its fall,
mounted 2,000 feet. The five voyagers had hoisted themselves into the net,
and clung to the meshes, gazing at the abyss.

The delicate sensibility of balloons is well known. It is sufficient to
throw out the lightest article to produce a difference in its vertical
position. The apparatus in the air is like a balance of mathematical
precision. It can be thus easily understood that when it is lightened of
any considerable weight its movement will be impetuous and sudden. So it
happened on this occasion. But after being suspended for an instant aloft,
the balloon began to redescend, the gas escaping by the rent which it was
impossible to repair.

The men had done all that men could do. No human efforts could save them
now.

They must trust to the mercy of Him who rules the elements.

At four o'clock the balloon was only 500 feet above the surface of the
water.

A loud barking was heard. A dog accompanied the voyagers, and was held
pressed close to his master in the meshes of the net.

"Top has seen something," cried one of the men. Then immediately a loud
voice shouted,—

"Land! land!" The balloon, which the wind still drove towards the
southwest, had since daybreak gone a considerable distance, which might be
reckoned by hundreds of miles, and a tolerably high land had, in fact,
appeared in that direction. But this land was still thirty miles off. It
would not take less than an hour to get to it, and then there was the
chance of falling to leeward.

An hour! Might not the balloon before that be emptied of all the fluid it
yet retained?

Such was the terrible question! The voyagers could distinctly see that
solid spot which they must reach at any cost. They were ignorant of what
it was, whether an island or a continent, for they did not know to what
part of the world the hurricane had driven them. But they must reach this
land, whether inhabited or desolate, whether hospitable or not.

It was evident that the balloon could no longer support itself! Several
times already had the crests of the enormous billows licked the bottom of
the net, making it still heavier, and the balloon only half rose, like a
bird with a wounded wing. Half an hour later the land was not more than a
mile off, but the balloon, exhausted, flabby, hanging in great folds, had
gas in its upper part alone. The voyagers, clinging to the net, were still
too heavy for it, and soon, half plunged into the sea, they were beaten by
the furious waves. The balloon-case bulged out again, and the wind, taking
it, drove it along like a vessel. Might it not possibly thus reach the
land?

But, when only two fathoms off, terrible cries resounded from four pairs
of lungs at once. The balloon, which had appeared as if it would never
again rise, suddenly made an unexpected bound, after having been struck by
a tremendous sea. As if it had been at that instant relieved of a new part
of its weight, it mounted to a height of 1,500 feet, and here it met a
current of wind, which instead of taking it directly to the coast, carried
it in a nearly parallel direction.

At last, two minutes later, it reproached obliquely, and finally fell on a
sandy beach, out of the reach of the waves.

The voyagers, aiding each other, managed to disengage themselves from the
meshes of the net. The balloon, relieved of their weight, was taken by the
wind, and like a wounded bird which revives for an instant, disappeared
into space.

But the car had contained five passengers, with a dog, and the balloon
only left four on the shore.

The missing person had evidently been swept off by the sea, which had just
struck the net, and it was owing to this circumstance that the lightened
balloon rose the last time, and then soon after reached the land. Scarcely
had the four castaways set foot on firm ground, than they all, thinking of
the absent one, simultaneously exclaimed, "Perhaps he will try to swim to
land! Let us save him! let us save him!"

Chapter 2

Those whom the hurricane had just thrown on this coast were neither
aeronauts by profession nor amateurs. They were prisoners of war whose
boldness had induced them to escape in this extraordinary manner.

A hundred times they had almost perished! A hundred times had they almost
fallen from their torn balloon into the depths of the ocean. But Heaven
had reserved them for a strange destiny, and after having, on the 20th of
March, escaped from Richmond, besieged by the troops of General Ulysses
Grant, they found themselves seven thousand miles from the capital of
Virginia, which was the principal stronghold of the South, during the
terrible War of Secession. Their aerial voyage had lasted five days.

The curious circumstances which led to the escape of the prisoners were as
follows:

That same year, in the month of February, 1865, in one of the coups de
main by which General Grant attempted, though in vain, to possess himself
of Richmond, several of his officers fell into the power of the enemy and
were detained in the town. One of the most distinguished was Captain Cyrus
Harding. He was a native of Massachusetts, a first-class engineer, to whom
the government had confided, during the war, the direction of the
railways, which were so important at that time. A true Northerner, thin,
bony, lean, about forty-five years of age; his close-cut hair and his
beard, of which he only kept a thick mustache, were already getting gray.
He had one-of those finely-developed heads which appear made to be struck
on a medal, piercing eyes, a serious mouth, the physiognomy of a clever
man of the military school. He was one of those engineers who began by
handling the hammer and pickaxe, like generals who first act as common
soldiers. Besides mental power, he also possessed great manual dexterity.
His muscles exhibited remarkable proofs of tenacity. A man of action as
well as a man of thought, all he did was without effort to one of his
vigorous and sanguine temperament. Learned, clear-headed, and practical,
he fulfilled in all emergencies those three conditions which united ought
to insure human success—activity of mind and body, impetuous wishes,
and powerful will. He might have taken for his motto that of William of
Orange in the 17th century: "I can undertake and persevere even without
hope of success." Cyrus Harding was courage personified. He had been in
all the battles of that war. After having begun as a volunteer at
Illinois, under Ulysses Grant, he fought at Paducah, Belmont, Pittsburg
Landing, at the siege of Corinth, Port Gibson, Black River, Chattanooga,
the Wilderness, on the Potomac, everywhere and valiantly, a soldier worthy
of the general who said, "I never count my dead!" And hundreds of times
Captain Harding had almost been among those who were not counted by the
terrible Grant; but in these combats where he never spared himself,
fortune favored him till the moment when he was wounded and taken prisoner
on the field of battle near Richmond. At the same time and on the same day
another important personage fell into the hands of the Southerners. This
was no other than Gideon Spilett, a reporter for the New York Herald, who
had been ordered to follow the changes of the war in the midst of the
Northern armies.

Gideon Spilett was one of that race of indomitable English or American
chroniclers, like Stanley and others, who stop at nothing to obtain exact
information, and transmit it to their journal in the shortest possible
time. The newspapers of the Union, such as the New York Herald, are
genuine powers, and their reporters are men to be reckoned with. Gideon
Spilett ranked among the first of those reporters: a man of great merit,
energetic, prompt and ready for anything, full of ideas, having traveled
over the whole world, soldier and artist, enthusiastic in council,
resolute in action, caring neither for trouble, fatigue, nor danger, when
in pursuit of information, for himself first, and then for his journal, a
perfect treasury of knowledge on all sorts of curious subjects, of the
unpublished, of the unknown, and of the impossible. He was one of those
intrepid observers who write under fire, "reporting" among bullets, and to
whom every danger is welcome.

He also had been in all the battles, in the first rank, revolver in one
hand, note-book in the other; grape-shot never made his pencil tremble. He
did not fatigue the wires with incessant telegrams, like those who speak
when they have nothing to say, but each of his notes, short, decisive, and
clear, threw light on some important point. Besides, he was not wanting in
humor. It was he who, after the affair of the Black River, determined at
any cost to keep his place at the wicket of the telegraph office, and
after having announced to his journal the result of the battle,
telegraphed for two hours the first chapters of the Bible. It cost the New
York Herald two thousand dollars, but the New York Herald published the
first intelligence.

Gideon Spilett was tall. He was rather more than forty years of age. Light
whiskers bordering on red surrounded his face. His eye was steady, lively,
rapid in its changes. It was the eye of a man accustomed to take in at a
glance all the details of a scene. Well built, he was inured to all
climates, like a bar of steel hardened in cold water.

For ten years Gideon Spilett had been the reporter of the New York Herald,
which he enriched by his letters and drawings, for he was as skilful in
the use of the pencil as of the pen. When he was captured, he was in the
act of making a description and sketch of the battle. The last words in
his note-book were these: "A Southern rifleman has just taken aim at me,
but—" The Southerner notwithstanding missed Gideon Spilett, who,
with his usual fortune, came out of this affair without a scratch.

Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett, who did not know each other except by
reputation, had both been carried to Richmond. The engineer's wounds
rapidly healed, and it was during his convalescence that he made
acquaintance with the reporter. The two men then learned to appreciate
each other. Soon their common aim had but one object, that of escaping,
rejoining Grant's army, and fighting together in the ranks of the
Federals.

The two Americans had from the first determined to seize every chance; but
although they were allowed to wander at liberty in the town, Richmond was
so strictly guarded, that escape appeared impossible. In the meanwhile
Captain Harding was rejoined by a servant who was devoted to him in life
and in death. This intrepid fellow was a Negro born on the engineer's
estate, of a slave father and mother, but to whom Cyrus, who was an
Abolitionist from conviction and heart, had long since given his freedom.
The once slave, though free, would not leave his master. He would have
died for him. He was a man of about thirty, vigorous, active, clever,
intelligent, gentle, and calm, sometimes naive, always merry, obliging,
and honest. His name was Nebuchadnezzar, but he only answered to the
familiar abbreviation of Neb.

When Neb heard that his master had been made prisoner, he left
Massachusetts without hesitating an instant, arrived before Richmond, and
by dint of stratagem and shrewdness, after having risked his life twenty
times over, managed to penetrate into the besieged town. The pleasure of
Harding on seeing his servant, and the joy of Neb at finding his master,
can scarcely be described.

But though Neb had been able to make his way into Richmond, it was quite
another thing to get out again, for the Northern prisoners were very
strictly watched. Some extraordinary opportunity was needed to make the
attempt with any chance of success, and this opportunity not only did not
present itself, but was very difficult to find.

Meanwhile Grant continued his energetic operations. The victory of
Petersburg had been very dearly bought. His forces, united to those of
Butler, had as yet been unsuccessful before Richmond, and nothing gave the
prisoners any hope of a speedy deliverance.

The reporter, to whom his tedious captivity did not offer a single
incident worthy of note, could stand it no longer. His usually active mind
was occupied with one sole thought—how he might get out of Richmond
at any cost. Several times had he even made the attempt, but was stopped
by some insurmountable obstacle. However, the siege continued; and if the
prisoners were anxious to escape and join Grant's army, certain of the
besieged were no less anxious to join the Southern forces. Among them was
one Jonathan Forster, a determined Southerner. The truth was, that if the
prisoners of the Secessionists could not leave the town, neither could the
Secessionists themselves while the Northern army invested it. The Governor
of Richmond for a long time had been unable to communicate with General
Lee, and he very much wished to make known to him the situation of the
town, so as to hasten the march of the army to their relief. Thus Jonathan
Forster accordingly conceived the idea of rising in a balloon, so as to
pass over the besieging lines, and in that way reach the Secessionist
camp.

The Governor authorized the attempt. A balloon was manufactured and placed
at the disposal of Forster, who was to be accompanied by five other
persons. They were furnished with arms in case they might have to defend
themselves when they alighted, and provisions in the event of their aerial
voyage being prolonged.

The departure of the balloon was fixed for the 18th of March. It should be
effected during the night, with a northwest wind of moderate force, and
the aeronauts calculated that they would reach General Lee's camp in a few
hours.

But this northwest wind was not a simple breeze. From the 18th it was
evident that it was changing to a hurricane. The tempest soon became such
that Forster's departure was deferred, for it was impossible to risk the
balloon and those whom it carried in the midst of the furious elements.

The balloon, inflated on the great square of Richmond, was ready to depart
on the first abatement of the wind, and, as may be supposed, the
impatience among the besieged to see the storm moderate was very great.

The 18th, the 19th of March passed without any alteration in the weather.
There was even great difficulty in keeping the balloon fastened to the
ground, as the squalls dashed it furiously about.

The night of the 19th passed, but the next morning the storm blew with
redoubled force. The departure of the balloon was impossible.

On that day the engineer, Cyrus Harding, was accosted in one of the
streets of Richmond by a person whom he did not in the least know. This
was a sailor named Pencroft, a man of about thirty-five or forty years of
age, strongly built, very sunburnt, and possessed of a pair of bright
sparkling eyes and a remarkably good physiognomy. Pencroft was an American
from the North, who had sailed all the ocean over, and who had gone
through every possible and almost impossible adventure that a being with
two feet and no wings would encounter. It is needless to say that he was a
bold, dashing fellow, ready to dare anything and was astonished at
nothing. Pencroft at the beginning of the year had gone to Richmond on
business, with a young boy of fifteen from New Jersey, son of a former
captain, an orphan, whom he loved as if he had been his own child. Not
having been able to leave the town before the first operations of the
siege, he found himself shut up, to his great disgust; but, not accustomed
to succumb to difficulties, he resolved to escape by some means or other.
He knew the engineer-officer by reputation; he knew with what impatience
that determined man chafed under his restraint. On this day he did not,
therefore, hesitate to accost him, saying, without circumlocution, "Have
you had enough of Richmond, captain?"

The engineer looked fixedly at the man who spoke, and who added, in a low
voice,—

"Captain Harding, will you try to escape?"

"When?" asked the engineer quickly, and it was evident that this question
was uttered without consideration, for he had not yet examined the
stranger who addressed him. But after having with a penetrating eye
observed the open face of the sailor, he was convinced that he had before
him an honest man.

"Who are you?" he asked briefly.

Pencroft made himself known.

"Well," replied Harding, "and in what way do you propose to escape?"

"By that lazy balloon which is left there doing nothing, and which looks
to me as if it was waiting on purpose for us—"

There was no necessity for the sailor to finish his sentence. The engineer
understood him at once. He seized Pencroft by the arm, and dragged him to
his house. There the sailor developed his project, which was indeed
extremely simple. They risked nothing but their lives in its execution.
The hurricane was in all its violence, it is true, but so clever and
daring an engineer as Cyrus Harding knew perfectly well how to manage a
balloon. Had he himself been as well acquainted with the art of sailing in
the air as he was with the navigation of a ship, Pencroft would not have
hesitated to set out, of course taking his young friend Herbert with him;
for, accustomed to brave the fiercest tempests of the ocean, he was not to
be hindered on account of the hurricane.

Captain Harding had listened to the sailor without saying a word, but his
eyes shone with satisfaction. Here was the long-sought-for opportunity—he
was not a man to let it pass. The plan was feasible, though, it must be
confessed, dangerous in the extreme. In the night, in spite of their
guards, they might approach the balloon, slip into the car, and then cut
the cords which held it. There was no doubt that they might be killed, but
on the other hand they might succeed, and without this storm!—Without
this storm the balloon would have started already and the looked-for
opportunity would not have then presented itself.

"I am not alone!" said Harding at last.

"How many people do you wish to bring with you?" asked the sailor.

"Two; my friend Spilett, and my servant Neb."

"That will be three," replied Pencroft; "and with Herbert and me five. But
the balloon will hold six—"

"That will be enough, we will go," answered Harding in a firm voice.

This "we" included Spilett, for the reporter, as his friend well knew, was
not a man to draw back, and when the project was communicated to him he
approved of it unreservedly. What astonished him was, that so simple an
idea had not occurred to him before. As to Neb, he followed his master
wherever his master wished to go.

"This evening, then," said Pencroft, "we will all meet out there."

"This evening, at ten o'clock," replied Captain Harding; "and Heaven grant
that the storm does not abate before our departure."

Pencroft took leave of the two friends, and returned to his lodging, where
young Herbert Brown had remained. The courageous boy knew of the sailor's
plan, and it was not without anxiety that he awaited the result of the
proposal being made to the engineer. Thus five determined persons were
about to abandon themselves to the mercy of the tempestuous elements!

No! the storm did not abate, and neither Jonathan Forster nor his
companions dreamed of confronting it in that frail car.

It would be a terrible journey. The engineer only feared one thing; it was
that the balloon, held to the ground and dashed about by the wind, would
be torn into shreds. For several hours he roamed round the nearly-deserted
square, surveying the apparatus. Pencroft did the same on his side, his
hands in his pockets, yawning now and then like a man who did not know how
to kill the time, but really dreading, like his friend, either the escape
or destruction of the balloon. Evening arrived. The night was dark in the
extreme. Thick mists passed like clouds close to the ground. Rain fell
mingled with snow, it was very cold. A mist hung over Richmond. It seemed
as if the violent storm had produced a truce between the besiegers and the
besieged, and that the cannon were silenced by the louder detonations of
the storm. The streets of the town were deserted. It had not even appeared
necessary in that horrible weather to place a guard in the square, in the
midst of which plunged the balloon. Everything favored the departure of
the prisoners, but what might possibly be the termination of the hazardous
voyage they contemplated in the midst of the furious elements?—

"Dirty weather!" exclaimed Pencroft, fixing his hat firmly on his head
with a blow of his fist; "but pshaw, we shall succeed all the same!"

At half-past nine, Harding and his companions glided from different
directions into the square, which the gas-lamps, extinguished by the wind,
had left in total obscurity. Even the enormous balloon, almost beaten to
the ground, could not be seen. Independently of the sacks of ballast, to
which the cords of the net were fastened, the car was held by a strong
cable passed through a ring in the pavement. The five prisoners met by the
car. They had not been perceived, and such was the darkness that they
could not even see each other.

Without speaking a word, Harding, Spilett, Neb, and Herbert took their
places in the car, while Pencroft by the engineer's order detached
successively the bags of ballast. It was the work of a few minutes only,
and the sailor rejoined his companions.

The balloon was then only held by the cable, and the engineer had nothing
to do but to give the word.

At that moment a dog sprang with a bound into the car. It was Top, a
favorite of the engineer. The faithful creature, having broken his chain,
had followed his master. He, however, fearing that its additional weight
might impede their ascent, wished to send away the animal.

"One more will make but little difference, poor beast!" exclaimed
Pencroft, heaving out two bags of sand, and as he spoke letting go the
cable; the balloon ascending in an oblique direction, disappeared, after
having dashed the car against two chimneys, which it threw down as it
swept by them.

Then, indeed, the full rage of the hurricane was exhibited to the
voyagers. During the night the engineer could not dream of descending, and
when day broke, even a glimpse of the earth below was intercepted by fog.

Five days had passed when a partial clearing allowed them to see the wide
extending ocean beneath their feet, now lashed into the maddest fury by
the gale.

Our readers will recollect what befell these five daring individuals who
set out on their hazardous expedition in the balloon on the 20th of March.
Five days afterwards four of them were thrown on a desert coast, seven
thousand miles from their country! But one of their number was missing,
the man who was to be their guide, their leading spirit, the engineer,
Captain Harding! The instant they had recovered their feet, they all
hurried to the beach in the hopes of rendering him assistance.

Chapter 3

The engineer, the meshes of the net having given way, had been carried off
by a wave. His dog also had disappeared. The faithful animal had
voluntarily leaped out to help his master. "Forward," cried the reporter;
and all four, Spilett, Herbert, Pencroft, and Neb, forgetting their
fatigue, began their search. Poor Neb shed bitter tears, giving way to
despair at the thought of having lost the only being he loved on earth.

Only two minutes had passed from the time when Cyrus Harding disappeared
to the moment when his companions set foot on the ground. They had hopes
therefore of arriving in time to save him. "Let us look for him! let us
look for him!" cried Neb.

"Yes, Neb," replied Gideon Spilett, "and we will find him too!"

"Living, I trust!"

"Still living!"

"Can he swim?" asked Pencroft.

"Yes," replied Neb, "and besides, Top is there."

The sailor, observing the heavy surf on the shore, shook his head.

The engineer had disappeared to the north of the shore, and nearly half a
mile from the place where the castaways had landed. The nearest point of
the beach he could reach was thus fully that distance off.

It was then nearly six o'clock. A thick fog made the night very dark. The
castaways proceeded toward the north of the land on which chance had
thrown them, an unknown region, the geographical situation of which they
could not even guess. They were walking upon a sandy soil, mingled with
stones, which appeared destitute of any sort of vegetation. The ground,
very unequal and rough, was in some places perfectly riddled with holes,
making walking extremely painful. From these holes escaped every minute
great birds of clumsy flight, which flew in all directions. Others, more
active, rose in flocks and passed in clouds over their heads. The sailor
thought he recognized gulls and cormorants, whose shrill cries rose above
the roaring of the sea.

From time to time the castaways stopped and shouted, then listened for
some response from the ocean, for they thought that if the engineer had
landed, and they had been near to the place, they would have heard the
barking of the dog Top, even should Harding himself have been unable to
give any sign of existence. They stopped to listen, but no sound arose
above the roaring of the waves and the dashing of the surf. The little
band then continued their march forward, searching into every hollow of
the shore.

After walking for twenty minutes, the four castaways were suddenly brought
to a standstill by the sight of foaming billows close to their feet. The
solid ground ended here. They found themselves at the extremity of a sharp
point on which the sea broke furiously.

"It is a promontory," said the sailor; "we must retrace our steps, holding
towards the right, and we shall thus gain the mainland."

"But if he is there," said Neb, pointing to the ocean, whose waves shone
of a snowy white in the darkness. "Well, let us call again," and all
uniting their voices, they gave a vigorous shout, but there came no reply.
They waited for a lull, then began again; still no reply.

The castaways accordingly returned, following the opposite side of the
promontory, over a soil equally sandy and rugged. However, Pencroft
observed that the shore was more equal, that the ground rose, and he
declared that it was joined by a long slope to a hill, whose massive front
he thought that he could see looming indistinctly through the mist. The
birds were less numerous on this part of the shore; the sea was also less
tumultuous, and they observed that the agitation of the waves was
diminished. The noise of the surf was scarcely heard. This side of the
promontory evidently formed a semicircular bay, which the sharp point
sheltered from the breakers of the open sea. But to follow this direction
was to go south, exactly opposite to that part of the coast where Harding
might have landed. After a walk of a mile and a half, the shore presented
no curve which would permit them to return to the north. This promontory,
of which they had turned the point, must be attached to the mainland. The
castaways, although their strength was nearly exhausted, still marched
courageously forward, hoping every moment to meet with a sudden angle
which would set them in the first direction. What was their
disappointment, when, after trudging nearly two miles, having reached an
elevated point composed of slippery rocks, they found themselves again
stopped by the sea.

"We are on an islet," said Pencroft, "and we have surveyed it from one
extremity to the other."

The sailor was right; they had been thrown, not on a continent, not even
on an island, but on an islet which was not more than two miles in length,
with even a less breadth.

Was this barren spot the desolate refuge of sea-birds, strewn with stones
and destitute of vegetation, attached to a more important archipelago? It
was impossible to say. When the voyagers from their car saw the land
through the mist, they had not been able to reconnoiter it sufficiently.
However, Pencroft, accustomed with his sailor eyes to piece through the
gloom, was almost certain that he could clearly distinguish in the west
confused masses which indicated an elevated coast. But they could not in
the dark determine whether it was a single island, or connected with
others. They could not leave it either, as the sea surrounded them; they
must therefore put off till the next day their search for the engineer,
from whom, alas! not a single cry had reached them to show that he was
still in existence.

"The silence of our friend proves nothing," said the reporter. "Perhaps he
has fainted or is wounded, and unable to reply directly, so we will not
despair."

The reporter then proposed to light a fire on a point of the islet, which
would serve as a signal to the engineer. But they searched in vain for
wood or dry brambles; nothing but sand and stones were to be found. The
grief of Neb and his companions, who were all strongly attached to the
intrepid Harding, can be better pictured than described. It was too
evident that they were powerless to help him. They must wait with what
patience they could for daylight. Either the engineer had been able to
save himself, and had already found a refuge on some point of the coast,
or he was lost for ever! The long and painful hours passed by. The cold
was intense. The castaways suffered cruelly, but they scarcely perceived
it. They did not even think of taking a minute's rest. Forgetting
everything but their chief, hoping or wishing to hope on, they continued
to walk up and down on this sterile spot, always returning to its northern
point, where they could approach nearest to the scene of the catastrophe.
They listened, they called, and then uniting their voices, they endeavored
to raise even a louder shout than before, which would be transmitted to a
great distance. The wind had now fallen almost to a calm, and the noise of
the sea began also to subside. One of Neb's shouts even appeared to
produce an echo. Herbert directed Pencroft's attention to it, adding,
"That proves that there is a coast to the west, at no great distance." The
sailor nodded; besides, his eyes could not deceive him. If he had
discovered land, however indistinct it might appear, land was sure to be
there. But that distant echo was the only response produced by Neb's
shouts, while a heavy gloom hung over all the part east of the island.

Meanwhile, the sky was clearing little by little. Towards midnight the
stars shone out, and if the engineer had been there with his companions he
would have remarked that these stars did not belong to the Northern
Hemisphere. The Polar Star was not visible, the constellations were not
those which they had been accustomed to see in the United States; the
Southern Cross glittered brightly in the sky.

The night passed away. Towards five o'clock in the morning of the 25th of
March, the sky began to lighten; the horizon still remained dark, but with
daybreak a thick mist rose from the sea, so that the eye could scarcely
penetrate beyond twenty feet or so from where they stood. At length the
fog gradually unrolled itself in great heavily moving waves.

It was unfortunate, however, that the castaways could distinguish nothing
around them. While the gaze of the reporter and Neb were cast upon the
ocean, the sailor and Herbert looked eagerly for the coast in the west.
But not a speck of land was visible. "Never mind," said Pencroft, "though
I do not see the land, I feel it... it is there... there... as sure as the
fact that we are no longer at Richmond." But the fog was not long in
rising. It was only a fine-weather mist. A hot sun soon penetrated to the
surface of the island. About half-past six, three-quarters of an hour
after sunrise, the mist became more transparent. It grew thicker above,
but cleared away below. Soon the isle appeared as if it had descended from
a cloud, then the sea showed itself around them, spreading far away
towards the east, but bounded on the west by an abrupt and precipitous
coast.

Yes! the land was there. Their safety was at least provisionally insured.
The islet and the coast were separated by a channel about half a mile in
breadth, through which rushed an extremely rapid current.

However, one of the castaways, following the impulse of his heart,
immediately threw himself into the current, without consulting his
companions, without saying a single word. It was Neb. He was in haste to
be on the other side, and to climb towards the north. It had been
impossible to hold him back. Pencroft called him in vain. The reporter
prepared to follow him, but Pencroft stopped him. "Do you want to cross
the channel?" he asked. "Yes," replied Spilett. "All right!" said the
seaman; "wait a bit; Neb is well able to carry help to his master. If we
venture into the channel, we risk being carried into the open sea by the
current, which is running very strong; but, if I'm not wrong, it is
ebbing. See, the tide is going down over the sand. Let us have patience,
and at low water it is possible we may find a fordable passage." "You are
right," replied the reporter, "we will not separate more than we can
help."

During this time Neb was struggling vigorously against the current. He was
crossing in an oblique direction. His black shoulders could be seen
emerging at each stroke. He was carried down very quickly, but he also
made way towards the shore. It took more than half an hour to cross from
the islet to the land, and he reached the shore several hundred feet from
the place which was opposite to the point from which he had started.

Landing at the foot of a high wall of granite, he shook himself
vigorously; and then, setting off running, soon disappeared behind a rocky
point, which projected to nearly the height of the northern extremity of
the islet.

Neb's companions had watched his daring attempt with painful anxiety, and
when he was out of sight, they fixed their attention on the land where
their hope of safety lay, while eating some shell-fish with which the sand
was strewn. It was a wretched repast, but still it was better than
nothing. The opposite coast formed one vast bay, terminating on the south
by a very sharp point, which was destitute of all vegetation, and was of a
very wild aspect. This point abutted on the shore in a grotesque outline
of high granite rocks. Towards the north, on the contrary, the bay
widened, and a more rounded coast appeared, trending from the southwest to
the northeast, and terminating in a slender cape. The distance between
these two extremities, which made the bow of the bay, was about eight
miles. Half a mile from the shore rose the islet, which somewhat resembled
the carcass of a gigantic whale. Its extreme breadth was not more than a
quarter of a mile.

Opposite the islet, the beach consisted first of sand, covered with black
stones, which were now appearing little by little above the retreating
tide. The second level was separated by a perpendicular granite cliff,
terminated at the top by an unequal edge at a height of at least 300 feet.
It continued thus for a length of three miles, ending suddenly on the
right with a precipice which looked as if cut by the hand of man. On the
left, above the promontory, this irregular and jagged cliff descended by a
long slope of conglomerated rocks till it mingled with the ground of the
southern point. On the upper plateau of the coast not a tree appeared. It
was a flat tableland like that above Cape Town at the Cape of Good Hope,
but of reduced proportions; at least so it appeared seen from the islet.
However, verdure was not wanting to the right beyond the precipice. They
could easily distinguish a confused mass of great trees, which extended
beyond the limits of their view. This verdure relieved the eye, so long
wearied by the continued ranges of granite. Lastly, beyond and above the
plateau, in a northwesterly direction and at a distance of at least seven
miles, glittered a white summit which reflected the sun's rays. It was
that of a lofty mountain, capped with snow.

The question could not at present be decided whether this land formed an
island, or whether it belonged to a continent. But on beholding the
convulsed masses heaped up on the left, no geologist would have hesitated
to give them a volcanic origin, for they were unquestionably the work of
subterranean convulsions.

Gideon Spilett, Pencroft, and Herbert attentively examined this land, on
which they might perhaps have to live many long years; on which indeed
they might even die, should it be out of the usual track of vessels, as
was likely to be the case.

"Well," asked Herbert, "what do you say, Pencroft?"

"There is some good and some bad, as in everything," replied the sailor.
"We shall see. But now the ebb is evidently making. In three hours we will
attempt the passage, and once on the other side, we will try to get out of
this scrape, and I hope may find the captain." Pencroft was not wrong in
his anticipations. Three hours later at low tide, the greater part of the
sand forming the bed of the channel was uncovered. Between the islet and
the coast there only remained a narrow channel which would no doubt be
easy to cross.

About ten o'clock, Gideon Spilett and his companions stripped themselves
of their clothes, which they placed in bundles on their heads, and then
ventured into the water, which was not more than five feet deep. Herbert,
for whom it was too deep, swam like a fish, and got through capitally. All
three arrived without difficulty on the opposite shore. Quickly drying
themselves in the sun, they put on their clothes, which they had preserved
from contact with the water, and sat down to take counsel together what to
do next.

Chapter 4

All at once the reporter sprang up, and telling the sailor that he would
rejoin them at that same place, he climbed the cliff in the direction
which the Negro Neb had taken a few hours before. Anxiety hastened his
steps, for he longed to obtain news of his friend, and he soon disappeared
round an angle of the cliff. Herbert wished to accompany him.

"Stop here, my boy," said the sailor; "we have to prepare an encampment,
and to try and find rather better grub than these shell-fish. Our friends
will want something when they come back. There is work for everybody."

"I am ready," replied Herbert.

"All right," said the sailor; "that will do. We must set about it
regularly. We are tired, cold, and hungry; therefore we must have shelter,
fire, and food. There is wood in the forest, and eggs in nests; we have
only to find a house."

"Very well," returned Herbert, "I will look for a cave among the rocks,
and I shall be sure to discover some hole into which we can creep."

"All right," said Pencroft; "go on, my boy."

They both walked to the foot of the enormous wall over the beach, far from
which the tide had now retreated; but instead of going towards the north,
they went southward. Pencroft had remarked, several hundred feet from the
place at which they landed, a narrow cutting, out of which he thought a
river or stream might issue. Now, on the one hand it was important to
settle themselves in the neighborhood of a good stream of water, and on
the other it was possible that the current had thrown Cyrus Harding on the
shore there.

The cliff, as has been said, rose to a height of three hundred feet, but
the mass was unbroken throughout, and even at its base, scarcely washed by
the sea, it did not offer the smallest fissure which would serve as a
dwelling. It was a perpendicular wall of very hard granite, which even the
waves had not worn away. Towards the summit fluttered myriads of sea-fowl,
and especially those of the web-footed species with long, flat, pointed
beaks—a clamorous tribe, bold in the presence of man, who probably
for the first time thus invaded their domains. Pencroft recognized the
skua and other gulls among them, the voracious little sea-mew, which in
great numbers nestled in the crevices of the granite. A shot fired among
this swarm would have killed a great number, but to fire a shot a gun was
needed, and neither Pencroft nor Herbert had one; besides this, gulls and
sea-mews are scarcely eatable, and even their eggs have a detestable
taste. However, Herbert, who had gone forward a little more to the left,
soon came upon rocks covered with sea-weed, which, some hours later, would
be hidden by the high tide. On these rocks, in the midst of slippery
wrack, abounded bivalve shell-fish, not to be despised by starving people.
Herbert called Pencroft, who ran up hastily.

"Here are mussels!" cried the sailor; "these will do instead of eggs!"

"They are not mussels," replied Herbert, who was attentively examining the
molluscs attached to the rocks; "they are lithodomes."

"Are they good to eat?" asked Pencroft.

"Perfectly so."

"Then let us eat some lithodomes."

The sailor could rely upon Herbert; the young boy was well up in natural
history, and always had had quite a passion for the science. His father
had encouraged him in it, by letting him attend the lectures of the best
professors in Boston, who were very fond of the intelligent, industrious
lad. And his turn for natural history was, more than once in the course of
time, of great use, and he was not mistaken in this instance. These
lithodomes were oblong shells, suspended in clusters and adhering very
tightly to the rocks. They belong to that species of molluscous
perforators which excavate holes in the hardest stone; their shell is
rounded at both ends, a feature which is not remarked in the common
mussel.

Pencroft and Herbert made a good meal of the lithodomes, which were then
half opened to the sun. They ate them as oysters, and as they had a strong
peppery taste, they were palatable without condiments of any sort.

Their hunger was thus appeased for the time, but not their thirst, which
increased after eating these naturally-spiced molluscs. They had then to
find fresh water, and it was not likely that it would be wanting in such a
capriciously uneven region. Pencroft and Herbert, after having taken the
precaution of collecting an ample supply of lithodomes, with which they
filled their pockets and handkerchiefs, regained the foot of the cliff.

Two hundred paces farther they arrived at the cutting, through which, as
Pencroft had guessed, ran a stream of water, whether fresh or not was to
be ascertained. At this place the wall appeared to have been separated by
some violent subterranean force. At its base was hollowed out a little
creek, the farthest part of which formed a tolerably sharp angle. The
watercourse at that part measured one hundred feet in breadth, and its two
banks on each side were scarcely twenty feet high. The river became strong
almost directly between the two walls of granite, which began to sink
above the mouth; it then suddenly turned and disappeared beneath a wood of
stunted trees half a mile off.

"Here is the water, and yonder is the wood we require!" said Pencroft.
"Well, Herbert, now we only want the house."

The water of the river was limpid. The sailor ascertained that at this
time—that is to say, at low tide, when the rising floods did not
reach it—it was sweet. This important point established, Herbert
looked for some cavity which would serve them as a retreat, but in vain;
everywhere the wall appeared smooth, plain, and perpendicular.

However, at the mouth of the watercourse and above the reach of the high
tide, the convulsions of nature had formed, not a grotto, but a pile of
enormous rocks, such as are often met with in granite countries and which
bear the name of "Chimneys."

Pencroft and Herbert penetrated quite far in among the rocks, by sandy
passages in which light was not wanting, for it entered through the
openings which were left between the blocks, of which some were only
sustained by a miracle of equilibrium; but with the light came also air—a
regular corridor-gale—and with the wind the sharp cold from the
exterior. However, the sailor thought that by stopping-up some of the
openings with a mixture of stones and sand, the Chimneys could be rendered
habitable. Their geometrical plan represented the typographical sign "&,"
which signifies "et cetera" abridged, but by isolating the upper mouth of
the sign, through which the south and west winds blew so strongly, they
could succeed in making the lower part of use.

"Here's our work," said Pencroft, "and if we ever see Captain Harding
again, he will know how to make something of this labyrinth."

"We shall see him again, Pencroft," cried Herbert, "and when he returns he
must find a tolerable dwelling here. It will be so, if we can make a
fireplace in the left passage and keep an opening for the smoke."

"So we can, my boy," replied the sailor, "and these Chimneys will serve
our turn. Let us set to work, but first come and get a store of fuel. I
think some branches will be very useful in stopping up these openings,
through which the wind shrieks like so many fiends."

Herbert and Pencroft left the Chimneys, and, turning the angle, they began
to climb the left bank of the river. The current here was quite rapid, and
drifted down some dead wood. The rising tide—and it could already be
perceived—must drive it back with force to a considerable distance.
The sailor then thought that they could utilize this ebb and flow for the
transport of heavy objects.

After having walked for a quarter of an hour, the sailor and the boy
arrived at the angle which the river made in turning towards the left.
From this point its course was pursued through a forest of magnificent
trees. These trees still retained their verdure, notwithstanding the
advanced season, for they belonged to the family of "coniferae," which is
spread over all the regions of the globe, from northern climates to the
tropics. The young naturalist recognized especially the "deedara," which
are very numerous in the Himalayan zone, and which spread around them a
most agreeable odor. Between these beautiful trees sprang up clusters of
firs, whose opaque open parasol boughs spread wide around. Among the long
grass, Pencroft felt that his feet were crushing dry branches which
crackled like fireworks.

"Well, my boy," said he to Herbert, "if I don't know the name of these
trees, at any rate I reckon that we may call them 'burning wood,' and just
now that's the chief thing we want."

"Let us get a supply," replied Herbert, who immediately set to work.

The collection was easily made. It was not even necessary to lop the
trees, for enormous quantities of dead wood were lying at their feet; but
if fuel was not wanting, the means of transporting it was not yet found.
The wood, being very dry, would burn rapidly; it was therefore necessary
to carry to the Chimneys a considerable quantity, and the loads of two men
would not be sufficient. Herbert remarked this.

"Well, my boy," replied the sailor, "there must be some way of carrying
this wood; there is always a way of doing everything. If we had a cart or
a boat, it would be easy enough."

"But we have the river," said Herbert.

"Right," replied Pencroft; "the river will be to us like a road which
carries of itself, and rafts have not been invented for nothing."

"Only," observed Herbert, "at this moment our road is going the wrong way,
for the tide is rising!"

"We shall be all right if we wait till it ebbs," replied the sailor, "and
then we will trust it to carry our fuel to the Chimneys. Let us get the
raft ready."

The sailor, followed by Herbert, directed his steps towards the river.
They both carried, each in proportion to his strength, a load of wood
bound in fagots. They found on the bank also a great quantity of dead
branches in the midst of grass, among which the foot of man had probably
never before trod. Pencroft began directly to make his raft. In a kind of
little bay, created by a point of the shore which broke the current, the
sailor and the lad placed some good-sized pieces of wood, which they had
fastened together with dry creepers. A raft was thus formed, on which they
stacked all they had collected, sufficient, indeed, to have loaded at
least twenty men. In an hour the work was finished, and the raft moored to
the bank, awaited the turning of the tide.

There were still several hours to be occupied, and with one consent
Pencroft and Herbert resolved to gain the upper plateau, so as to have a
more extended view of the surrounding country.

Exactly two hundred feet behind the angle formed by the river, the wall,
terminated by a fall of rocks, died away in a gentle slope to the edge of
the forest. It was a natural staircase. Herbert and the sailor began their
ascent; thanks to the vigor of their muscles they reached the summit in a
few minutes; and proceeded to the point above the mouth of the river.

On attaining it, their first look was cast upon the ocean which not long
before they had traversed in such a terrible condition. They observed,
with emotion, all that part to the north of the coast on which the
catastrophe had taken place. It was there that Cyrus Harding had
disappeared. They looked to see if some portion of their balloon, to which
a man might possibly cling, yet existed. Nothing! The sea was but one vast
watery desert. As to the coast, it was solitary also. Neither the reporter
nor Neb could be anywhere seen. But it was possible that at this time they
were both too far away to be perceived.

"Something tells me," cried Herbert, "that a man as energetic as Captain
Harding would not let himself be drowned like other people. He must have
reached some point of the shore; don't you think so, Pencroft?"

The sailor shook his head sadly. He little expected ever to see Cyrus
Harding again; but wishing to leave some hope to Herbert: "Doubtless,
doubtless," said he; "our engineer is a man who would get out of a scrape
to which any one else would yield."

In the meantime he examined the coast with great attention. Stretched out
below them was the sandy shore, bounded on the right of the river's mouth
by lines of breakers. The rocks which were visible appeared like
amphibious monsters reposing in the surf. Beyond the reef, the sea
sparkled beneath the sun's rays. To the south a sharp point closed the
horizon, and it could not be seen if the land was prolonged in that
direction, or if it ran southeast and southwest, which would have made
this coast a very long peninsula. At the northern extremity of the bay the
outline of the shore was continued to a great distance in a wider curve.
There the shore was low, flat, without cliffs, and with great banks of
sand, which the tide left uncovered. Pencroft and Herbert then returned
towards the west. Their attention was first arrested by the snow-topped
mountain which rose at a distance of six or seven miles. From its first
declivities to within two miles of the coast were spread vast masses of
wood, relieved by large green patches, caused by the presence of evergreen
trees. Then, from the edge of this forest to the shore extended a plain,
scattered irregularly with groups of trees. Here and there on the left
sparkled through glades the waters of the little river; they could trace
its winding course back towards the spurs of the mountain, among which it
seemed to spring. At the point where the sailor had left his raft of wood,
it began to run between the two high granite walls; but if on the left
bank the wall remained clear and abrupt, on the right bank, on the
contrary, it sank gradually, the massive sides changed to isolated rocks,
the rocks to stones, the stones to shingle running to the extremity of the
point.

"Are we on an island?" murmured the sailor.

"At any rate, it seems to be big enough," replied the lad.

"An island, ever so big, is an island all the same!" said Pencroft.

But this important question could not yet be answered. A more perfect
survey had to be made to settle the point. As to the land itself, island
or continent, it appeared fertile, agreeable in its aspect, and varied in
its productions.

"This is satisfactory," observed Pencroft; "and in our misfortune, we must
thank Providence for it."

"God be praised!" responded Herbert, whose pious heart was full of
gratitude to the Author of all things.

Pencroft and Herbert examined for some time the country on which they had
been cast; but it was difficult to guess after so hasty an inspection what
the future had in store for them.

They then returned, following the southern crest of the granite platform,
bordered by a long fringe of jagged rocks, of the most whimsical shapes.
Some hundreds of birds lived there nestled in the holes of the stone;
Herbert, jumping over the rocks, startled a whole flock of these winged
creatures.

"Oh!" cried he, "those are not gulls nor sea-mews!"

"What are they then?" asked Pencroft.

"Upon my word, one would say they were pigeons!"

"Just so, but these are wild or rock pigeons. I recognize them by the
double band of black on the wing, by the white tail, and by their
slate-colored plumage. But if the rock-pigeon is good to eat, its eggs
must be excellent, and we will soon see how many they may have left in
their nests!"

"We will not give them time to hatch, unless it is in the shape of an
omelet!" replied Pencroft merrily.

"But what will you make your omelet in?" asked Herbert; "in your hat?"

"Well!" replied the sailor, "I am not quite conjuror enough for that; we
must come down to eggs in the shell, my boy, and I will undertake to
despatch the hardest!"

Pencroft and Herbert attentively examined the cavities in the granite, and
they really found eggs in some of the hollows. A few dozen being
collected, were packed in the sailor's handkerchief, and as the time when
the tide would be full was approaching, Pencroft and Herbert began to
redescend towards the watercourse. When they arrived there, it was an hour
after midday. The tide had already turned. They must now avail themselves
of the ebb to take the wood to the mouth. Pencroft did not intend to let
the raft go away in the current without guidance, neither did he mean to
embark on it himself to steer it. But a sailor is never at a loss when
there is a question of cables or ropes, and Pencroft rapidly twisted a
cord, a few fathoms long, made of dry creepers. This vegetable cable was
fastened to the after-part of the raft, and the sailor held it in his hand
while Herbert, pushing off the raft with a long pole, kept it in the
current. This succeeded capitally. The enormous load of wood drifted down
the current. The bank was very equal; there was no fear that the raft
would run aground, and before two o'clock they arrived at the river's
mouth, a few paces from the Chimneys.

Chapter 5

Pencroft's first care, after unloading the raft, was to render the cave
habitable by stopping up all the holes which made it draughty. Sand,
stones, twisted branches, wet clay, closed up the galleries open to the
south winds. One narrow and winding opening at the side was kept, to lead
out the smoke and to make the fire draw. The cave was thus divided into
three or four rooms, if such dark dens with which a donkey would scarcely
have been contented deserved the name. But they were dry, and there was
space to stand upright, at least in the principal room, which occupied the
center. The floor was covered with fine sand, and taking all in all they
were well pleased with it for want of a better.

"Perhaps," said Herbert, while he and Pencroft were working, "our
companions have found a superior place to ours."

"Very likely," replied the seaman; "but, as we don't know, we must work
all the same. Better to have two strings to one's bow than no string at
all!"

"Oh!" exclaimed Herbert, "how jolly it will be if they were to find
Captain Harding and were to bring him back with them!"

"Yes, indeed!" said Pencroft, "that was a man of the right sort."

"Was!" exclaimed Herbert, "do you despair of ever seeing him again?"

"God forbid!" replied the sailor. Their work was soon done, and Pencroft
declared himself very well satisfied.

"Now," said he, "our friends can come back when they like. They will find
a good enough shelter."

They now had only to make a fireplace and to prepare the supper—an
easy task. Large flat stones were placed on the ground at the opening of
the narrow passage which had been kept. This, if the smoke did not take
the heat out with it, would be enough to maintain an equal temperature
inside. Their wood was stowed away in one of the rooms, and the sailor
laid in the fireplace some logs and brushwood. The seaman was busy with
this, when Herbert asked him if he had any matches.

"Certainly," replied Pencroft, "and I may say happily, for without matches
or tinder we should be in a fix."

"Still we might get fire as the savages do," replied Herbert, "by rubbing
two bits of dry stick one against the other."

"All right; try, my boy, and let's see if you can do anything besides
exercising your arms."

"Well, it's a very simple proceeding, and much used in the islands of the
Pacific."

"I don't deny it," replied Pencroft, "but the savages must know how to do
it or employ a peculiar wood, for more than once I have tried to get fire
in that way, but I could never manage it. I must say I prefer matches. By
the bye, where are my matches?"

Pencroft searched in his waistcoat for the box, which was always there,
for he was a confirmed smoker. He could not find it; he rummaged the
pockets of his trousers, but, to his horror, he could nowhere discover the
box.

"Here's a go!" said he, looking at Herbert. "The box must have fallen out
of my pocket and got lost! Surely, Herbert, you must have something—a
tinder-box—anything that can possibly make fire!"

"No, I haven't, Pencroft."

The sailor rushed out, followed by the boy. On the sand, among the rocks,
near the river's bank, they both searched carefully, but in vain. The box
was of copper, and therefore would have been easily seen.

"Pencroft," asked Herbert, "didn't you throw it out of the car?"

"I knew better than that," replied the sailor; "but such a small article
could easily disappear in the tumbling about we have gone through. I would
rather even have lost my pipe! Confound the box! Where can it be?"

"Look here, the tide is going down," said Herbert; "let's run to the place
where we landed."

It was scarcely probable that they would find the box, which the waves had
rolled about among the pebbles, at high tide, but it was as well to try.
Herbert and Pencroft walked rapidly to the point where they had landed the
day before, about two hundred feet from the cave. They hunted there, among
the shingle, in the clefts of the rocks, but found nothing. If the box had
fallen at this place it must have been swept away by the waves. As the sea
went down, they searched every little crevice with no result. It was a
grave loss in their circumstances, and for the time irreparable. Pencroft
could not hide his vexation; he looked very anxious, but said not a word.
Herbert tried to console him by observing, that if they had found the
matches, they would, very likely, have been wetted by the sea and useless.

"No, my boy," replied the sailor; "they were in a copper box which shut
very tightly; and now what are we to do?"

"We shall certainly find some way of making a fire," said Herbert.
"Captain Harding or Mr. Spilett will not be without them."

"Yes," replied Pencroft; "but in the meantime we are without fire, and our
companions will find but a sorry repast on their return."

"But," said Herbert quickly, "do you think it possible that they have no
tinder or matches?"

"I doubt it," replied the sailor, shaking his head, "for neither Neb nor
Captain Harding smoke, and I believe that Mr. Spilett would rather keep
his note-book than his match-box."

Herbert did not reply. The loss of the box was certainly to be regretted,
but the boy was still sure of procuring fire in some way or other.
Pencroft, more experienced, did not think so, although he was not a man to
trouble himself about a small or great grievance. At any rate, there was
only one thing to be done—to await the return of Neb and the
reporter; but they must give up the feast of hard eggs which they had
meant to prepare, and a meal of raw flesh was not an agreeable prospect
either for themselves or for the others.

Before returning to the cave, the sailor and Herbert, in the event of fire
being positively unattainable, collected some more shell-fish, and then
silently retraced their steps to their dwelling.

Pencroft, his eyes fixed on the ground, still looked for his box. He even
climbed up the left bank of the river from its mouth to the angle where
the raft had been moored. He returned to the plateau, went over it in
every direction, searched among the high grass on the border of the
forest, all in vain.

It was five in the evening when he and Herbert re-entered the cave. It is
useless to say that the darkest corners of the passages were ransacked
before they were obliged to give it up in despair. Towards six o'clock,
when the sun was disappearing behind the high lands of the west, Herbert,
who was walking up and down on the strand, signalized the return of Neb
and Spilett.

They were returning alone!... The boy's heart sank; the sailor had not
been deceived in his forebodings; the engineer, Cyrus Harding, had not
been found!

The reporter, on his arrival, sat down on a rock, without saying anything.
Exhausted with fatigue, dying of hunger, he had not strength to utter a
word.

As to Neb, his red eyes showed how he had cried, and the tears which he
could not restrain told too clearly that he had lost all hope.

The reporter recounted all that they had done in their attempt to recover
Cyrus Harding. He and Neb had surveyed the coast for a distance of eight
miles and consequently much beyond the place where the balloon had fallen
the last time but one, a fall which was followed by the disappearance of
the engineer and the dog Top. The shore was solitary; not a vestige of a
mark. Not even a pebble recently displaced; not a trace on the sand; not a
human footstep on all that part of the beach. It was clear that that
portion of the shore had never been visited by a human being. The sea was
as deserted as the land, and it was there, a few hundred feet from the
coast, that the engineer must have found a tomb.

As Spilett ended his account, Neb jumped up, exclaiming in a voice which
showed how hope struggled within him, "No! he is not dead! he can't be
dead! It might happen to any one else, but never to him! He could get out
of anything!" Then his strength forsaking him, "Oh! I can do no more!" he
murmured.

"Neb," said Herbert, running to him, "we will find him! God will give him
back to us! But in the meantime you are hungry, and you must eat
something."

So saying, he offered the poor Negro a few handfuls of shell-fish, which
was indeed wretched and insufficient food. Neb had not eaten anything for
several hours, but he refused them. He could not, would not live without
his master.

As to Gideon Spilett, he devoured the shell-fish, then he laid himself
down on the sand, at the foot of a rock. He was very weak, but calm.
Herbert went up to him, and taking his hand, "Sir," said he, "we have
found a shelter which will be better than lying here. Night is advancing.
Come and rest! To-morrow we will search farther."

The reporter got up, and guided by the boy went towards the cave. On the
way, Pencroft asked him in the most natural tone, if by chance he happened
to have a match or two.

The reporter stopped, felt in his pockets, but finding nothing said, "I
had some, but I must have thrown them away."

The seaman then put the same question to Neb and received the same answer.

"Confound it!" exclaimed the sailor.

The reporter heard him and seizing his arm, "Have you no matches?" he
asked.

"Not one, and no fire in consequence."

"Ah!" cried Neb, "if my master was here, he would know what to do!"

The four castaways remained motionless, looking uneasily at each other.
Herbert was the first to break the silence by saying, "Mr. Spilett, you
are a smoker and always have matches about you; perhaps you haven't looked
well, try again, a single match will be enough!"

The reporter hunted again in the pockets of his trousers, waistcoat, and
great-coat, and at last to Pencroft's great joy, no less to his extreme
surprise, he felt a tiny piece of wood entangled in the lining of his
waistcoat. He seized it with his fingers through the stuff, but he could
not get it out. If this was a match and a single one, it was of great
importance not to rub off the phosphorus.

"Will you let me try?" said the boy, and very cleverly, without breaking
it, he managed to draw out the wretched yet precious little bit of wood
which was of such great importance to these poor men. It was unused.

"Hurrah!" cried Pencroft; "it is as good as having a whole cargo!" He took
the match, and, followed by his companions, entered the cave.

This small piece of wood, of which so many in an inhabited country are
wasted with indifference and are of no value, must here be used with the
greatest caution.

The sailor first made sure that it was quite dry; that done, "We must have
some paper," said he.

"Here," replied Spilett, after some hesitation tearing a leaf out of his
note-book.

Pencroft took the piece of paper which the reporter held out to him, and
knelt down before the fireplace. Some handfuls of grass, leaves, and dry
moss were placed under the fagots and disposed in such a way that the air
could easily circulate, and the dry wood would rapidly catch fire.

Pencroft then twisted the piece of paper into the shape of a cone, as
smokers do in a high wind, and poked it in among the moss. Taking a small,
rough stone, he wiped it carefully, and with a beating heart, holding his
breath, he gently rubbed the match. The first attempt did not produce any
effect. Pencroft had not struck hard enough, fearing to rub off the
phosphorus.

"No, I can't do it," said he, "my hand trembles, the match has missed
fire; I cannot, I will not!" and rising, he told Herbert to take his
place.

Certainly the boy had never in all his life been so nervous. Prometheus
going to steal the fire from heaven could not have been more anxious. He
did not hesitate, however, but struck the match directly.

A little spluttering was heard and a tiny blue flame sprang up, making a
choking smoke. Herbert quickly turned the match so as to augment the
flame, and then slipped it into the paper cone, which in a few seconds too
caught fire, and then the moss.

A minute later the dry wood crackled and a cheerful flame, assisted by the
vigorous blowing of the sailor, sprang up in the midst of the darkness.

"At last!" cried Pencroft, getting up; "I was never so nervous before in
all my life!"

The flat stones made a capital fireplace. The smoke went quite easily out
at the narrow passage, the chimney drew, and an agreeable warmth was not
long in being felt.

They must now take great care not to let the fire go out, and always to
keep some embers alight. It only needed care and attention, as they had
plenty of wood and could renew their store at any time.

Pencroft's first thought was to use the fire by preparing a more
nourishing supper than a dish of shell-fish. Two dozen eggs were brought
by Herbert. The reporter leaning up in a corner, watched these
preparations without saying anything. A threefold thought weighed on his
mind. Was Cyrus still alive? If he was alive, where was he? If he had
survived from his fall, how was it that he had not found some means of
making known his existence? As to Neb, he was roaming about the shore. He
was like a body without a soul.

Pencroft knew fifty ways of cooking eggs, but this time he had no choice,
and was obliged to content himself with roasting them under the hot
cinders. In a few minutes the cooking was done, and the seaman invited the
reporter to take his share of the supper. Such was the first repast of the
castaways on this unknown coast. The hard eggs were excellent, and as eggs
contain everything indispensable to man's nourishment, these poor people
thought themselves well off, and were much strengthened by them. Oh! if
only one of them had not been missing at this meal! If the five prisoners
who escaped from Richmond had been all there, under the piled-up rocks,
before this clear, crackling fire on the dry sand, what thanksgiving must
they have rendered to Heaven! But the most ingenious, the most learned, he
who was their unquestioned chief, Cyrus Harding, was, alas! missing, and
his body had not even obtained a burial-place.

Thus passed the 25th of March. Night had come on. Outside could be heard
the howling of the wind and the monotonous sound of the surf breaking on
the shore. The waves rolled the shingle backwards and forwards with a
deafening noise.

The reporter retired into a dark corner after having shortly noted down
the occurrences of the day; the first appearance of this new land, the
loss of their leader, the exploration of the coast, the incident of the
matches, etc.; and then overcome by fatigue, he managed to forget his
sorrows in sleep. Herbert went to sleep directly. As to the sailor, he
passed the night with one eye on the fire, on which he did not spare fuel.
But one of the castaways did not sleep in the cave. The inconsolable,
despairing Neb, notwithstanding all that his companions could say to
induce him to take some rest, wandered all night long on the shore calling
on his master.

Chapter 6

The inventory of the articles possessed by these castaways from the
clouds, thrown upon a coast which appeared to be uninhabited, was soon
made out. They had nothing, save the clothes which they were wearing at
the time of the catastrophe. We must mention, however, a note-book and a
watch which Gideon Spilett had kept, doubtless by inadvertence, not a
weapon, not a tool, not even a pocket-knife; for while in the car they had
thrown out everything to lighten the balloon. The imaginary heroes of
Daniel Defoe or of Wyss, as well as Selkirk and Raynal shipwrecked on Juan
Fernandez and on the archipelago of the Aucklands, were never in such
absolute destitution. Either they had abundant resources from their
stranded vessels, in grain, cattle, tools, ammunition, or else some things
were thrown up on the coast which supplied them with all the first
necessities of life. But here, not any instrument whatever, not a utensil.
From nothing they must supply themselves with everything.

And yet, if Cyrus Harding had been with them, if the engineer could have
brought his practical science, his inventive mind to bear on their
situation, perhaps all hope would not have been lost. Alas! they must hope
no longer again to see Cyrus Harding. The castaways could expect nothing
but from themselves and from that Providence which never abandons those
whose faith is sincere.

But ought they to establish themselves on this part of the coast, without
trying to know to what continent it belonged, if it was inhabited, or if
they were on the shore of a desert island?

It was an important question, and should be solved with the shortest
possible delay. From its answer they would know what measures to take.
However, according to Pencroft's advice, it appeared best to wait a few
days before commencing an exploration. They must, in fact, prepare some
provisions and procure more strengthening food than eggs and molluscs. The
explorers, before undertaking new fatigues, must first of all recruit
their strength.

The Chimneys offered a retreat sufficient for the present. The fire was
lighted, and it was easy to preserve some embers. There were plenty of
shell-fish and eggs among the rocks and on the beach. It would be easy to
kill a few of the pigeons which were flying by hundreds about the summit
of the plateau, either with sticks or stones. Perhaps the trees of the
neighboring forest would supply them with eatable fruit. Lastly, the sweet
water was there.

It was accordingly settled that for a few days they would remain at the
Chimneys so as to prepare themselves for an expedition, either along the
shore or into the interior of the country. This plan suited Neb
particularly. As obstinate in his ideas as in his presentiments, he was in
no haste to abandon this part of the coast, the scene of the catastrophe.
He did not, he would not believe in the loss of Cyrus Harding. No, it did
not seem to him possible that such a man had ended in this vulgar fashion,
carried away by a wave, drowned in the floods, a few hundred feet from a
shore. As long as the waves had not cast up the body of the engineer, as
long as he, Neb, had not seen with his eyes, touched with his hands the
corpse of his master, he would not believe in his death! And this idea
rooted itself deeper than ever in his determined heart. An illusion
perhaps, but still an illusion to be respected, and one which the sailor
did not wish to destroy. As for him, he hoped no longer, but there was no
use in arguing with Neb. He was like the dog who will not leave the place
where his master is buried, and his grief was such that most probably he
would not survive him.

This same morning, the 26th of March, at daybreak, Neb had set out on the
shore in a northerly direction, and he had returned to the spot where the
sea, no doubt, had closed over the unfortunate Harding.

That day's breakfast was composed solely of pigeon's eggs and lithodomes.
Herbert had found some salt deposited by evaporation in the hollows of the
rocks, and this mineral was very welcome.

The repast ended, Pencroft asked the reporter if he wished to accompany
Herbert and himself to the forest, where they were going to try to hunt.
But on consideration, it was thought necessary that someone should remain
to keep in the fire, and to be at hand in the highly improbable event of
Neb requiring aid. The reporter accordingly remained behind.

"To the chase, Herbert," said the sailor. "We shall find ammunition on our
way, and cut our weapons in the forest." But at the moment of starting,
Herbert observed, that since they had no tinder, it would perhaps be
prudent to replace it by another substance.

"What?" asked Pencroft.

"Burnt linen," replied the boy. "That could in case of need serve for
tinder."

The sailor thought it very sensible advice. Only it had the inconvenience
of necessitating the sacrifice of a piece of handkerchief.
Notwithstanding, the thing was well worth while trying, and a part of
Pencroft's large checked handkerchief was soon reduced to the state of a
half-burnt rag. This inflammable material was placed in the central
chamber at the bottom of a little cavity in the rock, sheltered from all
wind and damp.

It was nine o'clock in the morning. The weather was threatening and the
breeze blew from the southeast. Herbert and Pencroft turned the angle of
the Chimneys, not without having cast a look at the smoke which, just at
that place, curled round a point of rock: they ascended the left bank of
the river.

Arrived at the forest, Pencroft broke from the first tree two stout
branches which he transformed into clubs, the ends of which Herbert rubbed
smooth on a rock. Oh! what would they not have given for a knife!

The two hunters now advanced among the long grass, following the bank.
From the turning which directed its course to the southwest, the river
narrowed gradually and the channel lay between high banks, over which the
trees formed a double arch. Pencroft, lest they should lose themselves,
resolved to follow the course of the stream, which would always lead them
back to the point from which they started. But the bank was not without
some obstacles: here, the flexible branches of the trees bent level with
the current; there, creepers and thorns which they had to break down with
their sticks. Herbert often glided among the broken stumps with the
agility of a young cat, and disappeared in the underwood. But Pencroft
called him back directly, begging him not to wander away. Meanwhile, the
sailor attentively observed the disposition and nature of the surrounding
country. On the left bank, the ground, which was flat and marshy, rose
imperceptibly towards the interior. It looked there like a network of
liquid threads which doubtless reached the river by some underground
drain. Sometimes a stream ran through the underwood, which they crossed
without difficulty. The opposite shore appeared to be more uneven, and the
valley of which the river occupied the bottom was more clearly visible.
The hill, covered with trees disposed in terraces, intercepted the view.
On the right bank walking would have been difficult, for the declivities
fell suddenly, and the trees bending over the water were only sustained by
the strength of their roots.

It is needless to add that this forest, as well as the coast already
surveyed, was destitute of any sign of human life. Pencroft only saw
traces of quadrupeds, fresh footprints of animals, of which he could not
recognize the species. In all probability, and such was also Herbert's
opinion, some had been left by formidable wild beasts which doubtless
would give them some trouble; but nowhere did they observe the mark of an
axe on the trees, nor the ashes of a fire, nor the impression of a human
foot. On this they might probably congratulate themselves, for on any land
in the middle of the Pacific the presence of man was perhaps more to be
feared than desired. Herbert and Pencroft speaking little, for the
difficulties of the way were great, advanced very slowly, and after
walking for an hour they had scarcely gone more than a mile. As yet the
hunt had not been successful. However, some birds sang and fluttered in
the foliage, and appeared very timid, as if man had inspired them with an
instinctive fear. Among others, Herbert described, in a marshy part of the
forest, a bird with a long pointed beak, closely resembling the
king-fisher, but its plumage was not fine, though of a metallic
brilliancy.

"That must be a jacamar," said Herbert, trying to get nearer.

"This will be a good opportunity to taste jacamar," replied the sailor,
"if that fellow is in a humor to be roasted!"

Just then, a stone cleverly thrown by the boy, struck the creature on the
wing, but the blow did not disable it, and the jacamar ran off and
disappeared in an instant.

"How clumsy I am!" cried Herbert.

"No, no, my boy!" replied the sailor. "The blow was well aimed; many a one
would have missed it altogether! Come, don't be vexed with yourself. We
shall catch it another day!"

As the hunters advanced, the trees were found to be more scattered, many
being magnificent, but none bore eatable fruit. Pencroft searched in vain
for some of those precious palm-trees which are employed in so many ways
in domestic life, and which have been found as far as the fortieth
parallel in the Northern Hemisphere, and to the thirty-fifth only in the
Southern Hemisphere. But this forest was only composed of coniferae, such
as deodaras, already recognized by Herbert, and Douglas pine, similar to
those which grow on the northwest coast of America, and splendid firs,
measuring a hundred and fifty feet in height.

At this moment a flock of birds, of a small size and pretty plumage, with
long glancing tails, dispersed themselves among the branches strewing
their feathers, which covered the ground as with fine down. Herbert picked
up a few of these feathers, and after having examined them,—

"These are couroucous," said he.

"I should prefer a moor-cock or guinea-fowl," replied Pencroft, "still, if
they are good to eat—"

"They are good to eat, and also their flesh is very delicate," replied
Herbert. "Besides, if I don't mistake, it is easy to approach and kill
them with a stick."

The sailor and the lad, creeping among the grass, arrived at the foot of a
tree, whose lower branches were covered with little birds. The couroucous
were waiting the passage of insects which served for their nourishment.
Their feathery feet could be seen clasping the slender twigs which
supported them.

The hunters then rose, and using their sticks like scythes, they mowed
down whole rows of these couroucous, who never thought of flying away, and
stupidly allowed themselves to be knocked off. A hundred were already
heaped on the ground, before the others made up their minds to fly.

"Well," said Pencroft, "here is game, which is quite within the reach of
hunters like us. We have only to put out our hands and take it!"

The sailor having strung the couroucous like larks on flexible twigs, they
then continued their exploration. The stream here made a bend towards the
south, but this detour was probably not prolonged for the river must have
its source in the mountain, and be supplied by the melting of the snow
which covered the sides of the central cone.

The particular object of their expedition was, as has been said, to
procure the greatest possible quantity of game for the inhabitants of the
Chimneys. It must be acknowledged that as yet this object had not been
attained. So the sailor actively pursued his researches, though he
exclaimed, when some animal which he had not even time to recognize fled
into the long grass, "If only we had had the dog Top!" But Top had
disappeared at the same time as his master, and had probably perished with
him.

Towards three o'clock new flocks of birds were seen through certain trees,
at whose aromatic berries they were pecking, those of the juniper-tree
among others. Suddenly a loud trumpet call resounded through the forest.
This strange and sonorous cry was produced by a game bird called grouse in
the United States. They soon saw several couples, whose plumage was rich
chestnut-brown mottled with dark brown, and tail of the same color.
Herbert recognized the males by the two wing-like appendages raised on the
neck. Pencroft determined to get hold of at least one of these
gallinaceae, which were as large as a fowl, and whose flesh is better than
that of a pullet. But it was difficult, for they would not allow
themselves to be approached. After several fruitless attempts, which
resulted in nothing but scaring the grouse, the sailor said to the lad,—

"Decidedly, since we can't kill them on the wing, we must try to take them
with a line."

"Like a fish?" cried Herbert, much surprised at the proposal.

"Like a fish," replied the sailor quite seriously. Pencroft had found
among the grass half a dozen grouse nests, each having three or four eggs.
He took great care not to touch these nests, to which their proprietors
would not fail to return. It was around these that he meant to stretch his
lines, not snares, but real fishing-lines. He took Herbert to some
distance from the nests, and there prepared his singular apparatus with
all the care which a disciple of Izaak Walton would have used. Herbert
watched the work with great interest, though rather doubting its success.
The lines were made of fine creepers, fastened one to the other, of the
length of fifteen or twenty feet. Thick, strong thorns, the points bent
back (which were supplied from a dwarf acacia bush) were fastened to the
ends of the creepers, by way of hooks. Large red worms, which were
crawling on the ground, furnished bait.

This done, Pencroft, passing among the grass and concealing himself
skillfully, placed the end of his lines armed with hooks near the grouse
nests; then he returned, took the other ends and hid with Herbert behind a
large tree. There they both waited patiently; though, it must be said,
that Herbert did not reckon much on the success of the inventive Pencroft.

A whole half-hour passed, but then, as the sailor had surmised, several
couple of grouse returned to their nests. They walked along, pecking the
ground, and not suspecting in any way the presence of the hunters, who,
besides, had taken care to place themselves to leeward of the gallinaceae.

The lad felt at this moment highly interested. He held his breath, and
Pencroft, his eyes staring, his mouth open, his lips advanced, as if about
to taste a piece of grouse, scarcely breathed.

Meanwhile, the birds walked about the hooks, without taking any notice of
them. Pencroft then gave little tugs which moved the bait as if the worms
had been still alive.

The sailor undoubtedly felt much greater anxiety than does the fisherman,
for he does not see his prey coming through the water. The jerks attracted
the attention of the gallinaceae, and they attacked the hooks with their
beaks. Three voracious grouse swallowed at the same moment bait and hook.
Suddenly with a smart jerk, Pencroft "struck" his line, and a flapping of
wings showed that the birds were taken.

"Hurrah!" he cried, rushing towards the game, of which he made himself
master in an instant.

Herbert clapped his hands. It was the first time that he had ever seen
birds taken with a line, but the sailor modestly confessed that it was not
his first attempt, and that besides he could not claim the merit of
invention.

"And at any rate," added he, "situated as we are, we must hope to hit upon
many other contrivances."

The grouse were fastened by their claws, and Pencroft, delighted at not
having to appear before their companions with empty hands, and observing
that the day had begun to decline, judged it best to return to their
dwelling.

The direction was indicated by the river, whose course they had only to
follow, and, towards six o'clock, tired enough with their excursion,
Herbert and Pencroft arrived at the Chimneys.

Chapter 7

Gideon Spilett was standing motionless on the shore, his arms crossed,
gazing over the sea, the horizon of which was lost towards the east in a
thick black cloud which was spreading rapidly towards the zenith. The wind
was already strong, and increased with the decline of day. The whole sky
was of a threatening aspect, and the first symptoms of a violent storm
were clearly visible.

Herbert entered the Chimneys, and Pencroft went towards the reporter. The
latter, deeply absorbed, did not see him approach.

"We are going to have a dirty night, Mr. Spilett!" said the sailor:
"Petrels delight in wind and rain."

The reporter, turning at the moment, saw Pencroft, and his first words
were,—

"At what distance from the coast would you say the car was, when the waves
carried off our companion?"

The sailor had not expected this question. He reflected an instant and
replied,—

"Two cables lengths at the most."

"But what is a cable's length?" asked Gideon Spilett.

"About a hundred and twenty fathoms, or six hundred feet."

"Then," said the reporter, "Cyrus Harding must have disappeared twelve
hundred feet at the most from the shore?"

"About that," replied Pencroft.

"And his dog also?"

"Also."

"What astonishes me," rejoined the reporter, "while admitting that our
companion has perished, is that Top has also met his death, and that
neither the body of the dog nor of his master has been cast on the shore!"

"It is not astonishing, with such a heavy sea," replied the sailor.
"Besides, it is possible that currents have carried them farther down the
coast."

"Then, it is your opinion that our friend has perished in the waves?"
again asked the reporter.

"That is my opinion."

"My own opinion," said Gideon Spilett, "with due deference to your
experience, Pencroft, is that in the double fact of the absolute
disappearance of Cyrus and Top, living or dead, there is something
unaccountable and unlikely."

"I wish I could think like you, Mr. Spilett," replied Pencroft;
"unhappily, my mind is made up on this point." Having said this, the
sailor returned to the Chimneys. A good fire crackled on the hearth.
Herbert had just thrown on an armful of dry wood, and the flame cast a
bright light into the darkest parts of the passage.

Pencroft immediately began to prepare the dinner. It appeared best to
introduce something solid into the bill of fare, for all needed to get up
their strength. The strings of couroucous were kept for the next day, but
they plucked a couple of grouse, which were soon spitted on a stick, and
roasting before a blazing fire.

At seven in the evening Neb had not returned. The prolonged absence of the
Negro made Pencroft very uneasy. It was to be feared that he had met with
an accident on this unknown land, or that the unhappy fellow had been
driven to some act of despair. But Herbert drew very different conclusions
from this absence. According to him, Neb's delay was caused by some new
circumstances which had induced him to prolong his search. Also,
everything new must be to the advantage of Cyrus Harding. Why had Neb not
returned unless hope still detained him? Perhaps he had found some mark, a
footstep, a trace which had put him in the right path. Perhaps he was at
this moment on a certain track. Perhaps even he was near his master.

Thus the lad reasoned. Thus he spoke. His companions let him talk. The
reporter alone approved with a gesture. But what Pencroft thought most
probable was, that Neb had pushed his researches on the shore farther than
the day before, and that he had not as yet had time to return.

Herbert, however, agitated by vague presentiments, several times
manifested an intention to go to meet Neb. But Pencroft assured him that
that would be a useless course, that in the darkness and deplorable
weather he could not find any traces of Neb, and that it would be much
better to wait. If Neb had not made his appearance by the next day,
Pencroft would not hesitate to join him in his search.

Gideon Spilett approved of the sailor's opinion that it was best not to
divide, and Herbert was obliged to give up his project; but two large
tears fell from his eyes.

The reporter could not refrain from embracing the generous boy.

Bad weather now set in. A furious gale from the southeast passed over the
coast. The sea roared as it beat over the reef. Heavy rain was dashed by
the storm into particles like dust. Ragged masses of vapor drove along the
beach, on which the tormented shingles sounded as if poured out in
cart-loads, while the sand raised by the wind added as it were mineral
dust to that which was liquid, and rendered the united attack
insupportable. Between the river's mouth and the end of the cliff, eddies
of wind whirled and gusts from this maelstrom lashed the water which ran
through the narrow valley. The smoke from the fireplace was also driven
back through the opening, filling the passages and rendering them
uninhabitable.

Therefore, as the grouse were cooked, Pencroft let the fire die away, and
only preserved a few embers buried under the ashes.

At eight o'clock Neb had not appeared, but there was no doubt that the
frightful weather alone hindered his return, and that he must have taken
refuge in some cave, to await the end of the storm or at least the return
of day. As to going to meet him, or attempting to find him, it was
impossible.

The game constituted the only dish at supper; the meat was excellent, and
Pencroft and Herbert, whose long excursion had rendered them very hungry,
devoured it with infinite satisfaction.

Their meal concluded, each retired to the corner in which he had rested
the preceding night, and Herbert was not long in going to sleep near the
sailor, who had stretched himself beside the fireplace.

Outside, as the night advanced, the tempest also increased in strength,
until it was equal to that which had carried the prisoners from Richmond
to this land in the Pacific. The tempests which are frequent during the
seasons of the equinox, and which are so prolific in catastrophes, are
above all terrible over this immense ocean, which opposes no obstacle to
their fury. No description can give an idea of the terrific violence of
the gale as it beat upon the unprotected coast.

Happily the pile of rocks which formed the Chimneys was solid. It was
composed of enormous blocks of granite, a few of which, insecurely
balanced, seemed to tremble on their foundations, and Pencroft could feel
rapid quiverings under his head as it rested on the rock. But he repeated
to himself, and rightly, that there was nothing to fear, and that their
retreat would not give way. However he heard the noise of stones torn from
the summit of the plateau by the wind, falling down on to the beach. A few
even rolled on to the upper part of the Chimneys, or flew off in fragments
when they were projected perpendicularly. Twice the sailor rose and
intrenched himself at the opening of the passage, so as to take a look in
safety at the outside. But there was nothing to be feared from these
showers, which were not considerable, and he returned to his couch before
the fireplace, where the embers glowed beneath the ashes.

Notwithstanding the fury of the hurricane, the uproar of the tempest, the
thunder, and the tumult, Herbert slept profoundly. Sleep at last took
possession of Pencroft, whom a seafaring life had habituated to anything.
Gideon Spilett alone was kept awake by anxiety. He reproached himself with
not having accompanied Neb. It was evident that he had not abandoned all
hope. The presentiments which had troubled Herbert did not cease to
agitate him also. His thoughts were concentrated on Neb. Why had Neb not
returned? He tossed about on his sandy couch, scarcely giving a thought to
the struggle of the elements. Now and then, his eyes, heavy with fatigue,
closed for an instant, but some sudden thought reopened them almost
immediately.

Meanwhile the night advanced, and it was perhaps two hours from morning,
when Pencroft, then sound asleep, was vigorously shaken.

"What's the matter?" he cried, rousing himself, and collecting his ideas
with the promptitude usual to seamen.

The reporter was leaning over him, and saying,—

"Listen, Pencroft, listen!"

The sailor strained his ears, but could hear no noise beyond those caused
by the storm.

"It is the wind," said he.

"No," replied Gideon Spilett, listening again, "I thought I heard—"

"What?"

"The barking of a dog!"

"A dog!" cried Pencroft, springing up.

"Yes—barking—"

"It's not possible!" replied the sailor. "And besides, how, in the roaring
of the storm—"

"Stop—listen—" said the reporter.

Pencroft listened more attentively, and really thought he heard, during a
lull, distant barking.

"Well!" said the reporter, pressing the sailor's hand.

"Yes—yes!" replied Pencroft.

"It is Top! It is Top!" cried Herbert, who had just awoke; and all three
rushed towards the opening of the Chimneys. They had great difficulty in
getting out. The wind drove them back. But at last they succeeded, and
could only remain standing by leaning against the rocks. They looked
about, but could not speak. The darkness was intense. The sea, the sky,
the land were all mingled in one black mass. Not a speck of light was
visible.

The reporter and his companions remained thus for a few minutes,
overwhelmed by the wind, drenched by the rain, blinded by the sand.

Then, in a pause of the tumult, they again heard the barking, which they
found must be at some distance.

It could only be Top! But was he alone or accompanied? He was most
probably alone, for, if Neb had been with him, he would have made his way
more directly towards the Chimneys. The sailor squeezed the reporter's
hand, for he could not make himself heard, in a way which signified
"Wait!" then he reentered the passage.

An instant after he issued with a lighted fagot, which he threw into the
darkness, whistling shrilly.

It appeared as if this signal had been waited for; the barking immediately
came nearer, and soon a dog bounded into the passage. Pencroft, Herbert,
and Spilett entered after him.

An armful of dry wood was thrown on the embers. The passage was lighted up
with a bright flame.

"It is Top!" cried Herbert.

It was indeed Top, a magnificent Anglo-Norman, who derived from these two
races crossed the swiftness of foot and the acuteness of smell which are
the preeminent qualities of coursing dogs. It was the dog of the engineer,
Cyrus Harding. But he was alone! Neither Neb nor his master accompanied
him!

How was it that his instinct had guided him straight to the Chimneys,
which he did not know? It appeared inexplicable, above all, in the midst
of this black night and in such a tempest! But what was still more
inexplicable was, that Top was neither tired, nor exhausted, nor even
soiled with mud or sand!—Herbert had drawn him towards him, and was
patting his head, the dog rubbing his neck against the lad's hands.

"If the dog is found, the master will be found also!" said the reporter.

"God grant it!" responded Herbert. "Let us set off! Top will guide us!"

Pencroft did not make any objection. He felt that Top's arrival
contradicted his conjectures. "Come along then!" said he.

Pencroft carefully covered the embers on the hearth. He placed a few
pieces of wood among them, so as to keep in the fire until their return.
Then, preceded by the dog, who seemed to invite them by short barks to
come with him, and followed by the reporter and the boy, he dashed out,
after having put up in his handkerchief the remains of the supper.

The storm was then in all its violence, and perhaps at its height. Not a
single ray of light from the moon pierced through the clouds. To follow a
straight course was difficult. It was best to rely on Top's instinct. They
did so. The reporter and Herbert walked behind the dog, and the sailor
brought up the rear. It was impossible to exchange a word. The rain was
not very heavy, but the wind was terrific.

However, one circumstance favored the seaman and his two companions. The
wind being southeast, consequently blew on their backs. The clouds of
sand, which otherwise would have been insupportable, from being received
behind, did not in consequence impede their progress. In short, they
sometimes went faster than they liked, and had some difficulty in keeping
their feet; but hope gave them strength, for it was not at random that
they made their way along the shore. They had no doubt that Neb had found
his master, and that he had sent them the faithful dog. But was the
engineer living, or had Neb only sent for his companions that they might
render the last duties to the corpse of the unfortunate Harding?

After having passed the precipice, Herbert, the reporter, and Pencroft
prudently stepped aside to stop and take breath. The turn of the rocks
sheltered them from the wind, and they could breathe after this walk or
rather run of a quarter of an hour.

They could now hear and reply to each other, and the lad having pronounced
the name of Cyrus Harding, Top gave a few short barks, as much as to say
that his master was saved.

"Saved, isn't he?" repeated Herbert; "saved, Top?"

And the dog barked in reply.

They once more set out. The tide began to rise, and urged by the wind it
threatened to be unusually high, as it was a spring tide. Great billows
thundered against the reef with such violence that they probably passed
entirely over the islet, then quite invisible. The mole no longer
protected the coast, which was directly exposed to the attacks of the open
sea.

As soon as the sailor and his companions left the precipice, the wind
struck them again with renewed fury. Though bent under the gale they
walked very quickly, following Top, who did not hesitate as to what
direction to take.

They ascended towards the north, having on their left an interminable
extent of billows, which broke with a deafening noise, and on their right
a dark country, the aspect of which it was impossible to guess. But they
felt that it was comparatively flat, for the wind passed completely over
them, without being driven back as it was when it came in contact with the
cliff.

At four o'clock in the morning, they reckoned that they had cleared about
five miles. The clouds were slightly raised, and the wind, though less
damp, was very sharp and cold. Insufficiently protected by their clothing,
Pencroft, Herbert and Spilett suffered cruelly, but not a complaint
escaped their lips. They were determined to follow Top, wherever the
intelligent animal wished to lead them.

Towards five o'clock day began to break. At the zenith, where the fog was
less thick, gray shades bordered the clouds; under an opaque belt, a
luminous line clearly traced the horizon. The crests of the billows were
tipped with a wild light, and the foam regained its whiteness. At the same
time on the left the hilly parts of the coast could be seen, though very
indistinctly.

At six o'clock day had broken. The clouds rapidly lifted. The seaman and
his companions were then about six miles from the Chimneys. They were
following a very flat shore bounded by a reef of rocks, whose heads
scarcely emerged from the sea, for they were in deep water. On the left,
the country appeared to be one vast extent of sandy downs, bristling with
thistles. There was no cliff, and the shore offered no resistance to the
ocean but a chain of irregular hillocks. Here and there grew two or three
trees, inclined towards the west, their branches projecting in that
direction. Quite behind, in the southwest, extended the border of the
forest.

At this moment, Top became very excited. He ran forward, then returned,
and seemed to entreat them to hasten their steps. The dog then left the
beach, and guided by his wonderful instinct, without showing the least
hesitation, went straight in among the downs. They followed him. The
country appeared an absolute desert. Not a living creature was to be seen.

The downs, the extent of which was large, were composed of hillocks and
even of hills, very irregularly distributed. They resembled a Switzerland
modeled in sand, and only an amazing instinct could have possibly
recognized the way.

Five minutes after having left the beach, the reporter and his two
companions arrived at a sort of excavation, hollowed out at the back of a
high mound. There Top stopped, and gave a loud, clear bark. Spilett,
Herbert, and Pencroft dashed into the cave.

Neb was there, kneeling beside a body extended on a bed of grass.

The body was that of the engineer, Cyrus Harding.

Chapter 8

Neb did not move. Pencroft only uttered one word.

"Living?" he cried.

Neb did not reply. Spilett and the sailor turned pale. Herbert clasped his
hands, and remained motionless. The poor Negro, absorbed in his grief,
evidently had neither seen his companions nor heard the sailor speak.

The reporter knelt down beside the motionless body, and placed his ear to
the engineer's chest, having first torn open his clothes.

A minute—an age!—passed, during which he endeavored to catch
the faintest throb of the heart.

Neb had raised himself a little and gazed without seeing. Despair had
completely changed his countenance. He could scarcely be recognized,
exhausted with fatigue, broken with grief. He believed his master was
dead.

Gideon Spilett at last rose, after a long and attentive examination.

"He lives!" said he.

Pencroft knelt in his turn beside the engineer, he also heard a throbbing,
and even felt a slight breath on his cheek.

Herbert at a word from the reporter ran out to look for water. He found, a
hundred feet off, a limpid stream, which seemed to have been greatly
increased by the rains, and which filtered through the sand; but nothing
in which to put the water, not even a shell among the downs. The lad was
obliged to content himself with dipping his handkerchief in the stream,
and with it hastened back to the grotto.

Happily the wet handkerchief was enough for Gideon Spilett, who only
wished to wet the engineer's lips. The cold water produced an almost
immediate effect. His chest heaved and he seemed to try to speak.

"We will save him!" exclaimed the reporter.

At these words hope revived in Neb's heart. He undressed his master to see
if he was wounded, but not so much as a bruise was to be found, either on
the head, body, or limbs, which was surprising, as he must have been
dashed against the rocks; even the hands were uninjured, and it was
difficult to explain how the engineer showed no traces of the efforts
which he must have made to get out of reach of the breakers.

But the explanation would come later. When Cyrus was able to speak he
would say what had happened. For the present the question was, how to
recall him to life, and it appeared likely that rubbing would bring this
about; so they set to work with the sailor's jersey.

The engineer, revived by this rude shampooing, moved his arm slightly and
began to breathe more regularly. He was sinking from exhaustion, and
certainly, had not the reporter and his companions arrived, it would have
been all over with Cyrus Harding.

"You thought your master was dead, didn't you?" said the seaman to Neb.

"Yes! quite dead!" replied Neb, "and if Top had not found you, and brought
you here, I should have buried my master, and then have lain down on his
grave to die!"

It had indeed been a narrow escape for Cyrus Harding!

Neb then recounted what had happened. The day before, after having left
the Chimneys at daybreak, he had ascended the coast in a northerly
direction, and had reached that part of the shore which he had already
visited.

There, without any hope he acknowledged, Neb had searched the beach, among
the rocks, on the sand, for the smallest trace to guide him. He examined
particularly that part of the beach which was not covered by the high
tide, for near the sea the water would have obliterated all marks. Neb did
not expect to find his master living. It was for a corpse that he
searched, a corpse which he wished to bury with his own hands!

He sought long in vain. This desert coast appeared never to have been
visited by a human creature. The shells, those which the sea had not
reached, and which might be met with by millions above high-water mark,
were untouched. Not a shell was broken.

Neb then resolved to walk along the beach for some miles. It was possible
that the waves had carried the body to quite a distant point. When a
corpse floats a little distance from a low shore, it rarely happens that
the tide does not throw it up, sooner or later. This Neb knew, and he
wished to see his master again for the last time.

"I went along the coast for another two miles, carefully examining the
beach, both at high and low water, and I had despaired of finding
anything, when yesterday, above five in the evening, I saw footprints on
the sand."

"Footprints?" exclaimed Pencroft.

"Yes!" replied Neb.

"Did these footprints begin at the water's edge?" asked the reporter.

"No," replied Neb, "only above high-water mark, for the others must have
been washed out by the tide."

"Go on, Neb," said Spilett.

"I went half crazy when I saw these footprints. They were very clear and
went towards the downs. I followed them for a quarter of a mile, running,
but taking care not to destroy them. Five minutes after, as it was getting
dark, I heard the barking of a dog. It was Top, and Top brought me here,
to my master!"

Neb ended his account by saying what had been his grief at finding the
inanimate body, in which he vainly sought for the least sign of life. Now
that he had found him dead he longed for him to be alive. All his efforts
were useless! Nothing remained to be done but to render the last duties to
the one whom he had loved so much! Neb then thought of his companions.
They, no doubt, would wish to see the unfortunate man again. Top was
there. Could he not rely on the sagacity of the faithful animal? Neb
several times pronounced the name of the reporter, the one among his
companions whom Top knew best.

Then he pointed to the south, and the dog bounded off in the direction
indicated to him.

We have heard how, guided by an instinct which might be looked upon almost
as supernatural, Top had found them.

Neb's companions had listened with great attention to this account.

It was unaccountable to them how Cyrus Harding, after the efforts which he
must have made to escape from the waves by crossing the rocks, had not
received even a scratch. And what could not be explained either was how
the engineer had managed to get to this cave in the downs, more than a
mile from the shore.

"So, Neb," said the reporter, "it was not you who brought your master to
this place."

"No, it was not I," replied the Negro.

"It's very clear that the captain came here by himself," said Pencroft.

"It is clear in reality," observed Spilett, "but it is not credible!"

The explanation of this fact could only be produced from the engineer's
own lips, and they must wait for that till speech returned. Rubbing had
re-established the circulation of the blood. Cyrus Harding moved his arm
again, then his head, and a few incomprehensible words escaped him.

Neb, who was bending over him, spoke, but the engineer did not appear to
hear, and his eyes remained closed. Life was only exhibited in him by
movement, his senses had not as yet been restored.

Pencroft much regretted not having either fire, or the means of procuring
it, for he had, unfortunately, forgotten to bring the burnt linen, which
would easily have ignited from the sparks produced by striking together
two flints. As to the engineer's pockets, they were entirely empty, except
that of his waistcoat, which contained his watch. It was necessary to
carry Harding to the Chimneys, and that as soon as possible. This was the
opinion of all.

Meanwhile, the care which was lavished on the engineer brought him back to
consciousness sooner than they could have expected. The water with which
they wetted his lips revived him gradually. Pencroft also thought of
mixing with the water some moisture from the titra's flesh which he had
brought. Herbert ran to the beach and returned with two large bivalve
shells. The sailor concocted something which he introduced between the
lips of the engineer, who eagerly drinking it opened his eyes.

Neb and the reporter were leaning over him.

"My master! my master!" cried Neb.

The engineer heard him. He recognized Neb and Spilett, then his other two
companions, and his hand slightly pressed theirs.

A few words again escaped him, which showed what thoughts were, even then,
troubling his brain. This time he was understood. Undoubtedly they were
the same words he had before attempted to utter.

"Island or continent?" he murmured.

"Bother the continent," cried Pencroft hastily; "there is time enough to
see about that, captain! we don't care for anything, provided you are
living."

The engineer nodded faintly, and then appeared to sleep.

They respected this sleep, and the reporter began immediately to make
arrangements for transporting Harding to a more comfortable place. Neb,
Herbert, and Pencroft left the cave and directed their steps towards a
high mound crowned with a few distorted trees. On the way the sailor could
not help repeating,—

"Island or continent! To think of that, when at one's last gasp! What a
man!"

Arrived at the summit of the mound, Pencroft and his two companions set to
work, with no other tools than their hands, to despoil of its principal
branches a rather sickly tree, a sort of marine fir; with these branches
they made a litter, on which, covered with grass and leaves, they could
carry the engineer.

This occupied them nearly forty minutes, and it was ten o'clock when they
returned to Cyrus Harding whom Spilett had not left.

The engineer was just awaking from the sleep, or rather from the
drowsiness, in which they had found him. The color was returning to his
cheeks, which till now had been as pale as death. He raised himself a
little, looked around him, and appeared to ask where he was.

"Can you listen to me without fatigue, Cyrus?" asked the reporter.

"Yes," replied the engineer.

"It's my opinion," said the sailor, "that Captain Harding will be able to
listen to you still better, if he will have some more grouse jelly,—for
we have grouse, captain," added he, presenting him with a little of this
jelly, to which he this time added some of the flesh.

Cyrus Harding ate a little of the grouse, and the rest was divided among
his companions, who found it but a meager breakfast, for they were
suffering extremely from hunger.

"Well!" said the sailor, "there is plenty of food at the Chimneys, for you
must know, captain, that down there, in the south, we have a house, with
rooms, beds, and fireplace, and in the pantry, several dozen of birds,
which our Herbert calls couroucous. Your litter is ready, and as soon as
you feel strong enough we will carry you home."

"Thanks, my friend," replied the engineer; "wait another hour or two, and
then we will set out. And now speak, Spilett."

The reporter then told him all that had occurred. He recounted all the
events with which Cyrus was unacquainted, the last fall of the balloon,
the landing on this unknown land, which appeared a desert (whatever it
was, whether island or continent), the discovery of the Chimneys, the
search for him, not forgetting of course Neb's devotion, the intelligence
exhibited by the faithful Top, as well as many other matters.

"But," asked Harding, in a still feeble voice, "you did not, then, pick me
up on the beach?"

"No," replied the reporter.

"And did you not bring me to this cave?"

"No."

"At what distance is this cave from the sea?"

"About a mile," replied Pencroft; "and if you are astonished, captain, we
are not less surprised ourselves at seeing you in this place!"

"Indeed," said the engineer, who was recovering gradually, and who took
great interest in these details, "indeed it is very singular!"

"But," resumed the sailor, "can you tell us what happened after you were
carried off by the sea?"

Cyrus Harding considered. He knew very little. The wave had torn him from
the balloon net. He sank at first several fathoms. On returning to the
surface, in the half light, he felt a living creature struggling near him.
It was Top, who had sprung to his help. He saw nothing of the balloon,
which, lightened both of his weight and that of the dog, had darted away
like an arrow.

There he was, in the midst of the angry sea, at a distance which could not
be less than half a mile from the shore. He attempted to struggle against
the billows by swimming vigorously. Top held him up by his clothes; but a
strong current seized him and drove him towards the north, and after half
an hour of exertion, he sank, dragging Top with him into the depths. From
that moment to the moment in which he recovered to find himself in the
arms of his friends he remembered nothing.

"However," remarked Pencroft, "you must have been thrown on to the beach,
and you must have had strength to walk here, since Neb found your
footmarks!"

"Yes... of course," replied the engineer, thoughtfully; "and you found no
traces of human beings on this coast?"

"Not a trace," replied the reporter; "besides, if by chance you had met
with some deliverer there, just in the nick of time, why should he have
abandoned you after having saved you from the waves?"

"You are right, my dear Spilett. Tell me, Neb," added the engineer,
turning to his servant, "it was not you who... you can't have had a moment
of unconsciousness... during which no, that's absurd.... Do any of the
footsteps still remain?" asked Harding.

"Yes, master," replied Neb; "here, at the entrance, at the back of the
mound, in a place sheltered from the rain and wind. The storm has
destroyed the others."

"Pencroft," said Cyrus Harding, "will you take my shoe and see if it fits
exactly to the footprints?"

The sailor did as the engineer requested. While he and Herbert, guided by
Neb, went to the place where the footprints were to be found, Cyrus
remarked to the reporter,—

"It is a most extraordinary thing!"

"Perfectly inexplicable!" replied Gideon Spilett.

"But do not dwell upon it just now, my dear Spilett, we will talk about it
by-and-by."

A moment after the others entered.

There was no doubt about it. The engineer's shoe fitted exactly to the
footmarks. It was therefore Cyrus Harding who had left them on the sand.

"Come," said he, "I must have experienced this unconsciousness which I
attributed to Neb. I must have walked like a somnambulist, without any
knowledge of my steps, and Top must have guided me here, after having
dragged me from the waves... Come, Top! Come, old dog!"

The magnificent animal bounded barking to his master, and caresses were
lavished on him. It was agreed that there was no other way of accounting
for the rescue of Cyrus Harding, and that Top deserved all the honor of
the affair.

Towards twelve o'clock, Pencroft having asked the engineer if they could
now remove him, Harding, instead of replying, and by an effort which
exhibited the most energetic will, got up. But he was obliged to lean on
the sailor, or he would have fallen.

"Well done!" cried Pencroft; "bring the captain's litter."

The litter was brought; the transverse branches had been covered with
leaves and long grass. Harding was laid on it, and Pencroft, having taken
his place at one end and Neb at the other, they started towards the coast.
There was a distance of eight miles to be accomplished; but, as they could
not go fast, and it would perhaps be necessary to stop frequently, they
reckoned that it would take at least six hours to reach the Chimneys. The
wind was still strong, but fortunately it did not rain. Although lying
down, the engineer, leaning on his elbow, observed the coast, particularly
inland. He did not speak, but he gazed; and, no doubt, the appearance of
the country, with its inequalities of ground, its forests, its various
productions, were impressed on his mind. However, after traveling for two
hours, fatigue overcame him, and he slept.

At half-past five the little band arrived at the precipice, and a short
time after at the Chimneys.

They stopped, and the litter was placed on the sand; Cyrus Harding was
sleeping profoundly, and did not awake.

Pencroft, to his extreme surprise, found that the terrible storm had quite
altered the aspect of the place. Important changes had occurred; great
blocks of stone lay on the beach, which was also covered with a thick
carpet of sea-weed, algae, and wrack. Evidently the sea, passing over the
islet, had been carried right up to the foot of the enormous curtain of
granite. The soil in front of the cave had been torn away by the violence
of the waves. A horrid presentiment flashed across Pencroft's mind. He
rushed into the passage, but returned almost immediately, and stood
motionless, staring at his companions.... The fire was out; the drowned
cinders were nothing but mud; the burnt linen, which was to have served as
tinder, had disappeared! The sea had penetrated to the end of the
passages, and everything was overthrown and destroyed in the interior of
the Chimneys!

Chapter 9

In a few words, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, and Neb were made acquainted with
what had happened. This accident, which appeared so very serious to
Pencroft, produced different effects on the companions of the honest
sailor.

Neb, in his delight at having found his master, did not listen, or rather,
did not care to trouble himself with what Pencroft was saying.

Herbert shared in some degree the sailor's feelings.

As to the reporter, he simply replied,—

"Upon my word, Pencroft, it's perfectly indifferent to me!"

"But, I repeat, that we haven't any fire!"

"Pooh!"

"Nor any means of relighting it!"

"Nonsense!"

"But I say, Mr. Spilett—"

"Isn't Cyrus here?" replied the reporter.

"Is not our engineer alive? He will soon find some way of making fire for
us!"

"With what?"

"With nothing."

What had Pencroft to say? He could say nothing, for, in the bottom of his
heart he shared the confidence which his companions had in Cyrus Harding.
The engineer was to them a microcosm, a compound of every science, a
possessor of all human knowledge. It was better to be with Cyrus in a
desert island, than without him in the most flourishing town in the United
States. With him they could want nothing; with him they would never
despair. If these brave men had been told that a volcanic eruption would
destroy the land, that this land would be engulfed in the depths of the
Pacific, they would have imperturbably replied,—

"Cyrus is here!"

While in the palanquin, however, the engineer had again relapsed into
unconsciousness, which the jolting to which he had been subjected during
his journey had brought on, so that they could not now appeal to his
ingenuity. The supper must necessarily be very meager. In fact, all the
grouse flesh had been consumed, and there no longer existed any means of
cooking more game. Besides, the couroucous which had been reserved had
disappeared. They must consider what was to be done.

First of all, Cyrus Harding was carried into the central passage. There
they managed to arrange for him a couch of sea-weed which still remained
almost dry. The deep sleep which had overpowered him would no doubt be
more beneficial to him than any nourishment.

Night had closed in, and the temperature, which had modified when the wind
shifted to the northwest, again became extremely cold. Also, the sea
having destroyed the partitions which Pencroft had put up in certain
places in the passages, the Chimneys, on account of the draughts, had
become scarcely habitable. The engineer's condition would, therefore, have
been bad enough, if his companions had not carefully covered him with
their coats and waistcoats.

Supper, this evening, was of course composed of the inevitable lithodomes,
of which Herbert and Neb picked up a plentiful supply on the beach.
However, to these molluscs, the lad added some edible sea-weed, which he
gathered on high rocks, whose sides were only washed by the sea at the
time of high tides. This sea-weed, which belongs to the order of Fucacae,
of the genus Sargassum, produces, when dry, a gelatinous matter, rich and
nutritious. The reporter and his companions, after having eaten a quantity
of lithodomes, sucked the sargassum, of which the taste was very
tolerable. It is used in parts of the East very considerably by the
natives. "Never mind!" said the sailor, "the captain will help us soon."
Meanwhile the cold became very severe, and unhappily they had no means of
defending themselves from it.

The sailor, extremely vexed, tried in all sorts of ways to procure fire.
Neb helped him in this work. He found some dry moss, and by striking
together two pebbles he obtained some sparks, but the moss, not being
inflammable enough, did not take fire, for the sparks were really only
incandescent, and not at all of the same consistency as those which are
emitted from flint when struck in the same manner. The experiment,
therefore, did not succeed.

Pencroft, although he had no confidence in the proceeding, then tried
rubbing two pieces of dry wood together, as savages do. Certainly, the
movement which he and Neb exhibited, if it had been transformed into heat,
according to the new theory, would have been enough to heat the boiler of
a steamer! It came to nothing. The bits of wood became hot, to be sure,
but much less so than the operators themselves.

After working an hour, Pencroft, who was in a complete state of
perspiration, threw down the pieces of wood in disgust.

"I can never be made to believe that savages light their fires in this
way, let them say what they will," he exclaimed. "I could sooner light my
arms by rubbing them against each other!"

The sailor was wrong to despise the proceeding. Savages often kindle wood
by means of rapid rubbing. But every sort of wood does not answer for the
purpose, and besides, there is "the knack," following the usual
expression, and it is probable that Pencroft had not "the knack."

Pencroft's ill humor did not last long. Herbert had taken the bits of wood
which he had turned down, and was exerting himself to rub them. The hardy
sailor could not restrain a burst of laughter on seeing the efforts of the
lad to succeed where he had failed.

"Rub, my boy, rub!" said he.

"I am rubbing," replied Herbert, laughing, "but I don't pretend to do
anything else but warm myself instead of shivering, and soon I shall be as
hot as you are, my good Pencroft!"

This soon happened. However, they were obliged to give up, for this night
at least, the attempt to procure fire. Gideon Spilett repeated, for the
twentieth time, that Cyrus Harding would not have been troubled for so
small a difficulty. And, in the meantime, he stretched himself in one of
the passages on his bed of sand. Herbert, Neb, and Pencroft did the same,
while Top slept at his master's feet.

Next day, the 28th of March, when the engineer awoke, about eight in the
morning, he saw his companions around him watching his sleep, and, as on
the day before, his first words were:—

"Island or continent?" This was his uppermost thought.

"Well!" replied Pencroft, "we don't know anything about it, captain!"

"You don't know yet?"

"But we shall know," rejoined Pencroft, "when you have guided us into the
country."

"I think I am able to try it," replied the engineer, who, without much
effort, rose and stood upright.

"Alas! we have no fire," said Pencroft, "or rather, captain, we have it no
longer!"

And the sailor recounted all that had passed the day before. He amused the
engineer by the history of the single match, then his abortive attempt to
procure fire in the savages' way.

"We shall consider," replied the engineer, "and if we do not find some
substance similar to tinder—"

"Well?" asked the sailor.

"Well, we will make matches.

"Chemicals?"

"Chemicals!"

"It is not more difficult than that," cried the reporter, striking the
sailor on the shoulder.

The latter did not think it so simple, but he did not protest. All went
out. The weather had become very fine. The sun was rising from the sea's
horizon, and touched with golden spangles the prismatic rugosities of the
huge precipice.

Having thrown a rapid glance around him, the engineer seated himself on a
block of stone. Herbert offered him a few handfuls of shell-fish and
sargassum, saying,—

He ate the wretched food with appetite, and washed it down with a little
fresh water, drawn from the river in an immense shell.

His companions looked at him without speaking. Then, feeling somewhat
refreshed, Cyrus Harding crossed his arms, and said,—

"So, my friends, you do not know yet whether fate has thrown us on an
island, or on a continent?"

"No, captain," replied the boy.

"We shall know to-morrow," said the engineer; "till then, there is nothing
to be done."

"Yes," replied Pencroft.

"What?"

"Fire," said the sailor, who, also, had a fixed idea.

"We will make it, Pencroft," replied Harding.

"While you were carrying me yesterday, did I not see in the west a
mountain which commands the country?"

"Yes," replied Spilett, "a mountain which must be rather high—"

"Well," replied the engineer, "we will climb to the summit to-morrow, and
then we shall see if this land is an island or a continent. Till then, I
repeat, there is nothing to be done."

"Yes, fire!" said the obstinate sailor again.

"But he will make us a fire!" replied Gideon Spilett, "only have a little
patience, Pencroft!"

The seaman looked at Spilett in a way which seemed to say, "If it depended
upon you to do it, we wouldn't taste roast meat very soon"; but he was
silent.

Meanwhile Captain Harding had made no reply. He appeared to be very little
troubled by the question of fire. For a few minutes he remained absorbed
in thought; then again speaking,—

"My friends," said he, "our situation is, perhaps, deplorable; but, at any
rate, it is very plain. Either we are on a continent, and then, at the
expense of greater or less fatigue, we shall reach some inhabited place,
or we are on an island. In the latter case, if the island is inhabited, we
will try to get out of the scrape with the help of its inhabitants; if it
is desert, we will try to get out of the scrape by ourselves."

"Certainly, nothing could be plainer," replied Pencroft.

"But, whether it is an island or a continent," asked Gideon Spilett,
"whereabouts do you think, Cyrus, this storm has thrown us?"

"I cannot say exactly," replied the engineer, "but I presume it is some
land in the Pacific. In fact, when we left Richmond, the wind was blowing
from the northeast, and its very violence greatly proves that it could not
have varied. If the direction has been maintained from the northeast to
the southwest, we have traversed the States of North Carolina, of South
Carolina, of Georgia, the Gulf of Mexico, Mexico, itself, in its narrow
part, then a part of the Pacific Ocean. I cannot estimate the distance
traversed by the balloon at less than six to seven thousand miles, and,
even supposing that the wind had varied half a quarter, it must have
brought us either to the archipelago of Mendava, either on the Pomotous,
or even, if it had a greater strength than I suppose, to the land of New
Zealand. If the last hypothesis is correct, it will be easy enough to get
home again. English or Maoris, we shall always find some one to whom we
can speak. If, on the contrary, this is the coast of a desert island in
some tiny archipelago, perhaps we shall be able to reconnoiter it from the
summit of that peak which overlooks the country, and then we shall see how
best to establish ourselves here as if we are never to go away."

"Never?" cried the reporter. "You say 'Never,' my dear Cyrus?"

"Better to put things at the worst at first," replied the engineer, "and
reserve the best for a surprise."

"Well said," remarked Pencroft. "It is to be hoped, too, that this island,
if it be one, is not situated just out of the course of ships; that would
be really unlucky!"

"We shall not know what we have to rely on until we have first made the
ascent of the mountain," replied the engineer.

"But to-morrow, captain," asked Herbert, "shall you be in a state to bear
the fatigue of the ascent?"

"Captain," said the sailor, "since you are speaking of game, if on my
return, I was as certain of roasting it as I am of bringing it back—"

"Bring it back all the same, Pencroft," replied Harding.

It was then agreed that the engineer and the reporter were to pass the day
at the Chimneys, so as to examine the shore and the upper plateau. Neb,
Herbert, and the sailor were to return to the forest, renew their store of
wood, and lay violent hands on every creature, feathered or hairy, which
might come within their reach.

They set out accordingly about ten o'clock in the morning, Herbert
confident, Neb joyous, Pencroft murmuring aside,—

"If, on my return, I find a fire at the house, I shall believe that the
thunder itself came to light it." All three climbed the bank; and arrived
at the angle made by the river, the sailor, stopping, said to his two
companions,—

"Shall we begin by being hunters or wood-men?"

"Hunters," replied Herbert. "There is Top already in quest."

"We will hunt, then," said the sailor, "and afterwards we can come back
and collect our wood."

This agreed to, Herbert, Neb, and Pencroft, after having torn three sticks
from the trunk of a young fir, followed Top, who was bounding about among
the long grass.

This time, the hunters, instead of following the course of the river,
plunged straight into the heart of the forest. There were still the same
trees, belonging, for the most part, to the pine family. In certain
places, less crowded, growing in clumps, these pines exhibited
considerable dimensions, and appeared to indicate, by their development,
that the country was situated in a higher latitude than the engineer had
supposed. Glades, bristling with stumps worn away by time, were covered
with dry wood, which formed an inexhaustible store of fuel. Then, the
glade passed, the underwood thickened again, and became almost
impenetrable.

It was difficult enough to find the way among the groups of trees, without
any beaten track. So the sailor from time to time broke off branches which
might be easily recognized. But, perhaps, he was wrong not to follow the
watercourse, as he and Herbert had done on their first excursion, for
after walking an hour not a creature had shown itself. Top, running under
the branches, only roused birds which could not be approached. Even the
couroucous were invisible, and it was probable that the sailor would be
obliged to return to the marshy part of the forest, in which he had so
happily performed his grouse fishing.

"Well, Pencroft," said Neb, in a slightly sarcastic tone, "if this is all
the game which you promised to bring back to my master, it won't need a
large fire to roast it!"

"Have patience," replied the sailor, "it isn't the game which will be
wanting on our return."

"Have you not confidence in Captain Harding?"

"Yes."

"But you don't believe that he will make fire?"

"I shall believe it when the wood is blazing in the fireplace."

"It will blaze, since my master has said so."

"We shall see!"

Meanwhile, the sun had not reached the highest point in its course above
the horizon. The exploration, therefore, continued, and was usefully
marked by a discovery which Herbert made of a tree whose fruit was edible.
This was the stone-pine, which produces an excellent almond, very much
esteemed in the temperate regions of America and Europe. These almonds
were in a perfect state of maturity, and Herbert described them to his
companions, who feasted on them.

"Come," said Pencroft, "sea-weed by way of bread, raw mussels for meat,
and almonds for dessert, that's certainly a good dinner for those who have
not a single match in their pocket!"

"We mustn't complain," said Herbert.

"I am not complaining, my boy," replied Pencroft, "only I repeat, that
meat is a little too much economized in this sort of meal."

"Top has found something!" cried Neb, who ran towards a thicket, in the
midst of which the dog had disappeared, barking. With Top's barking were
mingled curious gruntings.

The sailor and Herbert had followed Neb. If there was game there this was
not the time to discuss how it was to be cooked, but rather, how they were
to get hold of it.

The hunters had scarcely entered the bushes when they saw Top engaged in a
struggle with an animal which he was holding by the ear. This quadruped
was a sort of pig nearly two feet and a half long, of a blackish brown
color, lighter below, having hard scanty hair; its toes, then strongly
fixed in the ground, seemed to be united by a membrane. Herbert recognized
in this animal the capybara, that is to say, one of the largest members of
the rodent order.

Meanwhile, the capybara did not struggle against the dog. It stupidly
rolled its eyes, deeply buried in a thick bed of fat. Perhaps it saw men
for the first time.

However, Neb having tightened his grasp on his stick, was just going to
fell the pig, when the latter, tearing itself from Top's teeth, by which
it was only held by the tip of its ear, uttered a vigorous grunt, rushed
upon Herbert, almost overthrew him, and disappeared in the wood.

"The rascal!" cried Pencroft.

All three directly darted after Top, but at the moment when they joined
him the animal had disappeared under the waters of a large pond shaded by
venerable pines.

Neb, Herbert, and Pencroft stopped, motionless. Top plunged into the
water, but the capybara, hidden at the bottom of the pond, did not appear.

"Let us wait," said the boy, "for he will soon come to the surface to
breathe."

"Won't he drown?" asked Neb.

"No," replied Herbert, "since he has webbed feet, and is almost an
amphibious animal. But watch him."

Top remained in the water. Pencroft and his two companions went to
different parts of the bank, so as to cut off the retreat of the capybara,
which the dog was looking for beneath the water.

Herbert was not mistaken. In a few minutes the animal appeared on the
surface of the water. Top was upon it in a bound, and kept it from
plunging again. An instant later the capybara, dragged to the bank, was
killed by a blow from Neb's stick.

"Hurrah!" cried Pencroft, who was always ready with this cry of triumph.

"Give me but a good fire, and this pig shall be gnawed to the bones!"

Pencroft hoisted the capybara on his shoulders, and judging by the height
of the sun that it was about two o'clock, he gave the signal to return.

Top's instinct was useful to the hunters, who, thanks to the intelligent
animal, were enabled to discover the road by which they had come. Half an
hour later they arrived at the river.

Pencroft soon made a raft of wood, as he had done before, though if there
was no fire it would be a useless task, and the raft following the
current, they returned towards the Chimneys.

But the sailor had not gone fifty paces when he stopped, and again
uttering a tremendous hurrah, pointed towards the angle of the cliff,—

"Herbert! Neb! Look!" he shouted.

Smoke was escaping and curling up among the rocks.

Chapter 10

In a few minutes the three hunters were before a crackling fire. The
captain and the reporter were there. Pencroft looked from one to the
other, his capybara in his hand, without saying a word.

"Well, yes, my brave fellow," cried the reporter.

"Fire, real fire, which will roast this splendid pig perfectly, and we
will have a feast presently!"

"But who lighted it?" asked Pencroft.

"The sun!"

Gideon Spilett was quite right in his reply. It was the sun which had
furnished the heat which so astonished Pencroft. The sailor could scarcely
believe his eyes, and he was so amazed that he did not think of
questioning the engineer.

"Had you a burning-glass, sir?" asked Herbert of Harding.

"No, my boy," replied he, "but I made one."

And he showed the apparatus which served for a burning-glass. It was
simply two glasses which he had taken from his own and the reporter's
watches. Having filled them with water and rendered their edges adhesive
by means of a little clay, he thus fabricated a regular burning-glass,
which, concentrating the solar rays on some very dry moss, soon caused it
to blaze.

The sailor considered the apparatus; then he gazed at the engineer without
saying a word, only a look plainly expressed his opinion that if Cyrus
Harding was not a magician, he was certainly no ordinary man. At last
speech returned to him, and he cried,—

"Note that, Mr. Spilett, note that down on your paper!"

"It is noted," replied the reporter.

Then, Neb helping him, the seaman arranged the spit, and the capybara,
properly cleaned, was soon roasting like a suckling-pig before a clear,
crackling fire.

The Chimneys had again become more habitable, not only because the
passages were warmed by the fire, but because the partitions of wood and
mud had been re-established.

It was evident that the engineer and his companions had employed their day
well. Cyrus Harding had almost entirely recovered his strength, and had
proved it by climbing to the upper plateau. From this point his eye,
accustomed to estimate heights and distances, was fixed for a long time on
the cone, the summit of which he wished to reach the next day. The
mountain, situated about six miles to the northwest, appeared to him to
measure 3,500 feet above the level of the sea. Consequently the gaze of an
observer posted on its summit would extend over a radius of at least fifty
miles. Therefore it was probable that Harding could easily solve the
question of "island or continent," to which he attached so much
importance.

They supped capitally. The flesh of the capybara was declared excellent.
The sargassum and the almonds of the stone-pine completed the repast,
during which the engineer spoke little. He was preoccupied with projects
for the next day.

Once or twice Pencroft gave forth some ideas upon what it would be best to
do; but Cyrus Harding, who was evidently of a methodical mind, only shook
his head without uttering a word.

"To-morrow," he repeated, "we shall know what we have to depend upon, and
we will act accordingly."

The meal ended, fresh armfuls of wood were thrown on the fire, and the
inhabitants of the Chimneys, including the faithful Top, were soon buried
in a deep sleep.

No incident disturbed this peaceful night, and the next day, the 29th of
March, fresh and active they awoke, ready to undertake the excursion which
must determine their fate.

All was ready for the start. The remains of the capybara would be enough
to sustain Harding and his companions for at least twenty-four hours.

Besides, they hoped to find more food on the way. As the glasses had been
returned to the watches of the engineer and reporter, Pencroft burned a
little linen to serve as tinder. As to flint, that would not be wanting in
these regions of Plutonic origin. It was half-past seven in the morning
when the explorers, armed with sticks, left the Chimneys. Following
Pencroft's advice, it appeared best to take the road already traversed
through the forest, and to return by another route. It was also the most
direct way to reach the mountain. They turned the south angle and followed
the left bank of the river, which was abandoned at the point where it
formed an elbow towards the southwest. The path, already trodden under the
evergreen trees, was found, and at nine o'clock Cyrus Harding and his
companions had reached the western border of the forest. The ground, till
then, very little undulated, boggy at first, dry and sandy afterwards, had
a gentle slope, which ascended from the shore towards the interior of the
country. A few very timid animals were seen under the forest-trees. Top
quickly started them, but his master soon called him back, for the time
had not come to commence hunting; that would be attended to later. The
engineer was not a man who would allow himself to be diverted from his
fixed idea. It might even have been said that he did not observe the
country at all, either in its configuration or in its natural productions,
his great aim being to climb the mountain before him, and therefore
straight towards it he went. At ten o'clock a halt of a few minutes was
made. On leaving the forest, the mountain system of the country appeared
before the explorers. The mountain was composed of two cones; the first,
truncated at a height of about two thousand five hundred feet, was
sustained by buttresses, which appeared to branch out like the talons of
an immense claw set on the ground. Between these were narrow valleys,
bristling with trees, the last clumps of which rose to the top of the
lowest cone. There appeared to be less vegetation on that side of the
mountain which was exposed to the northeast, and deep fissures could be
seen which, no doubt, were watercourses.

On the first cone rested a second, slightly rounded, and placed a little
on one side, like a great round hat cocked over the ear. A Scotchman would
have said, "His bonnet was a thocht ajee." It appeared formed of bare
earth, here and there pierced by reddish rocks.

They wished to reach the second cone, and proceeding along the ridge of
the spurs seemed to be the best way by which to gain it.

"We are on volcanic ground," Cyrus Harding had said, and his companions
following him began to ascend by degrees on the back of a spur, which, by
a winding and consequently more accessible path, joined the first plateau.

The ground had evidently been convulsed by subterranean force. Here and
there stray blocks, numerous debris of basalt and pumice-stone, were met
with. In isolated groups rose fir-trees, which, some hundred feet lower,
at the bottom of the narrow gorges, formed massive shades almost
impenetrable to the sun's rays.

During the first part of the ascent, Herbert remarked on the footprints
which indicated the recent passage of large animals.

"Perhaps these beasts will not let us pass by willingly," said Pencroft.

"Well," replied the reporter, who had already hunted the tiger in India,
and the lion in Africa, "we shall soon learn how successfully to encounter
them. But in the meantime we must be upon our guard!"

They ascended but slowly.

The distance, increased by detours and obstacles which could not be
surmounted directly, was long. Sometimes, too, the ground suddenly fell,
and they found themselves on the edge of a deep chasm which they had to go
round. Thus, in retracing their steps so as to find some practicable path,
much time was employed and fatigue undergone for nothing. At twelve
o'clock, when the small band of adventurers halted for breakfast at the
foot of a large group of firs, near a little stream which fell in
cascades, they found themselves still half way from the first plateau,
which most probably they would not reach till nightfall. From this point
the view of the sea was much extended, but on the right the high
promontory prevented their seeing whether there was land beyond it. On the
left, the sight extended several miles to the north; but, on the
northwest, at the point occupied by the explorers, it was cut short by the
ridge of a fantastically-shaped spur, which formed a powerful support of
the central cone.

At one o'clock the ascent was continued. They slanted more towards the
southwest and again entered among thick bushes. There under the shade of
the trees fluttered several couples of gallinaceae belonging to the
pheasant species. They were tragopans, ornamented by a pendant skin which
hangs over their throats, and by two small, round horns, planted behind
the eyes. Among these birds, which were about the size of a fowl, the
female was uniformly brown, while the male was gorgeous in his red
plumage, decorated with white spots. Gideon Spilett, with a stone cleverly
and vigorously thrown, killed one of these tragopans, on which Pencroft,
made hungry by the fresh air, had cast greedy eyes.

After leaving the region of bushes, the party, assisted by resting on each
other's shoulders, climbed for about a hundred feet up a steep acclivity
and reached a level place, with very few trees, where the soil appeared
volcanic. It was necessary to ascend by zigzags to make the slope more
easy, for it was very steep, and the footing being exceedingly precarious
required the greatest caution. Neb and Herbert took the lead, Pencroft the
rear, the captain and the reporter between them. The animals which
frequented these heights—and there were numerous traces of them—must
necessarily belong to those races of sure foot and supple spine, chamois
or goat. Several were seen, but this was not the name Pencroft gave them,
for all of a sudden—"Sheep!" he shouted.

All stopped about fifty feet from half-a-dozen animals of a large size,
with strong horns bent back and flattened towards the point, with a woolly
fleece, hidden under long silky hair of a tawny color.

They were not ordinary sheep, but a species usually found in the
mountainous regions of the temperate zone, to which Herbert gave the name
of the musmon.

"Have they legs and chops?" asked the sailor.

"Yes," replied Herbert.

"Well, then, they are sheep!" said Pencroft.

The animals, motionless among the blocks of basalt, gazed with an
astonished eye, as if they saw human bipeds for the first time. Then their
fears suddenly aroused, they disappeared, bounding over the rocks.

"Good-bye, till we meet again," cried Pencroft, as he watched them, in
such a comical tone that Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, and Neb
could not help laughing.

The ascent was continued. Here and there were traces of lava. Sulphur
springs sometimes stopped their way, and they had to go round them. In
some places the sulphur had formed crystals among other substances, such
as whitish cinders made of an infinity of little feldspar crystals.

In approaching the first plateau formed by the truncating of the lower
cone, the difficulties of the ascent were very great. Towards four o'clock
the extreme zone of the trees had been passed. There only remained here
and there a few twisted, stunted pines, which must have had a hard life in
resisting at this altitude the high winds from the open sea. Happily for
the engineer and his companions the weather was beautiful, the atmosphere
tranquil; for a high breeze at an elevation of three thousand feet would
have hindered their proceedings. The purity of the sky at the zenith was
felt through the transparent air. A perfect calm reigned around them. They
could not see the sun, then hid by the vast screen of the upper cone,
which masked the half-horizon of the west, and whose enormous shadow
stretching to the shore increased as the radiant luminary sank in its
diurnal course. Vapor—mist rather than clouds—began to appear
in the east, and assume all the prismatic colors under the influence of
the solar rays.

Five hundred feet only separated the explorers from the plateau, which
they wished to reach so as to establish there an encampment for the night,
but these five hundred feet were increased to more than two miles by the
zigzags which they had to describe. The soil, as it were, slid under their
feet.

The slope often presented such an angle that they slipped when the stones
worn by the air did not give a sufficient support. Evening came on by
degrees, and it was almost night when Cyrus Harding and his companions,
much fatigued by an ascent of seven hours, arrived at the plateau of the
first cone. It was then necessary to prepare an encampment, and to restore
their strength by eating first and sleeping afterwards. This second stage
of the mountain rose on a base of rocks, among which it would be easy to
find a retreat. Fuel was not abundant. However, a fire could be made by
means of the moss and dry brushwood, which covered certain parts of the
plateau. While the sailor was preparing his hearth with stones which he
put to this use, Neb and Herbert occupied themselves with getting a supply
of fuel. They soon returned with a load of brushwood. The steel was
struck, the burnt linen caught the sparks of flint, and, under Neb's
breath, a crackling fire showed itself in a few minutes under the shelter
of the rocks. Their object in lighting a fire was only to enable them to
withstand the cold temperature of the night, as it was not employed in
cooking the bird, which Neb kept for the next day. The remains of the
capybara and some dozens of the stone-pine almonds formed their supper. It
was not half-past six when all was finished.

Cyrus Harding then thought of exploring in the half-light the large
circular layer which supported the upper cone of the mountain. Before
taking any rest, he wished to know if it was possible to get round the
base of the cone in the case of its sides being too steep and its summit
being inaccessible. This question preoccupied him, for it was possible
that from the way the hat inclined, that is to say, towards the north, the
plateau was not practicable. Also, if the summit of the mountain could not
be reached on one side, and if, on the other, they could not get round the
base of the cone, it would be impossible to survey the western part of the
country, and their object in making the ascent would in part be altogether
unattained.

The engineer, accordingly, regardless of fatigue, leaving Pencroft and Neb
to arrange the beds, and Gideon Spilett to note the incidents of the day,
began to follow the edge of the plateau, going towards the north. Herbert
accompanied him.

The night was beautiful and still, the darkness was not yet deep. Cyrus
Harding and the boy walked near each other, without speaking. In some
places the plateau opened before them, and they passed without hindrance.
In others, obstructed by rocks, there was only a narrow path, in which two
persons could not walk abreast. After a walk of twenty minutes, Cyrus
Harding and Herbert were obliged to stop. From this point the slope of the
two cones became one. No shoulder here separated the two parts of the
mountain. The slope, being inclined almost seventy degrees, the path
became impracticable.

But if the engineer and the boy were obliged to give up thoughts of
following a circular direction, in return an opportunity was given for
ascending the cone.

In fact, before them opened a deep hollow. It was the rugged mouth of the
crater, by which the eruptive liquid matter had escaped at the periods
when the volcano was still in activity. Hardened lava and crusted scoria
formed a sort of natural staircase of large steps, which would greatly
facilitate the ascent to the summit of the mountain.

Harding took all this in at a glance, and without hesitating, followed by
the lad, he entered the enormous chasm in the midst of an increasing
obscurity.

There was still a height of a thousand feet to overcome. Would the
interior acclivities of the crater be practicable? It would soon be seen.
The persevering engineer resolved to continue his ascent until he was
stopped. Happily these acclivities wound up the interior of the volcano
and favored their ascent.

As to the volcano itself, it could not be doubted that it was completely
extinct. No smoke escaped from its sides; not a flame could be seen in the
dark hollows; not a roar, not a mutter, no trembling even issued from this
black well, which perhaps reached far into the bowels of the earth. The
atmosphere inside the crater was filled with no sulphurous vapor. It was
more than the sleep of a volcano; it was its complete extinction. Cyrus
Harding's attempt would succeed.

Little by little, Herbert and he climbing up the sides of the interior,
saw the crater widen above their heads. The radius of this circular
portion of the sky, framed by the edge of the cone, increased obviously.
At each step, as it were, that the explorers made, fresh stars entered the
field of their vision. The magnificent constellations of the southern sky
shone resplendently. At the zenith glittered the splendid Antares in the
Scorpion, and not far was Alpha Centauri, which is believed to be the
nearest star to the terrestrial globe. Then, as the crater widened,
appeared Fomalhaut of the Fish, the Southern Triangle, and lastly, nearly
at the Antarctic Pole, the glittering Southern Cross, which replaces the
Polar Star of the Northern Hemisphere.

It was nearly eight o'clock when Cyrus Harding and Herbert set foot on the
highest ridge of the mountain at the summit of the cone.

It was then perfectly dark, and their gaze could not extend over a radius
of two miles. Did the sea surround this unknown land, or was it connected
in the west with some continent of the Pacific? It could not yet be made
out. Towards the west, a cloudy belt, clearly visible at the horizon,
increased the gloom, and the eye could not discover if the sky and water
were blended together in the same circular line.

But at one point of the horizon a vague light suddenly appeared, which
descended slowly in proportion as the cloud mounted to the zenith.

It was the slender crescent moon, already almost disappearing; but its
light was sufficient to show clearly the horizontal line, then detached
from the cloud, and the engineer could see its reflection trembling for an
instant on a liquid surface. Cyrus Harding seized the lad's hand, and in a
grave voice,—

"An island!" said he, at the moment when the lunar crescent disappeared
beneath the waves.

Chapter 11

Half an hour later Cyrus Harding and Herbert had returned to the
encampment. The engineer merely told his companions that the land upon
which fate had thrown them was an island, and that the next day they would
consult. Then each settled himself as well as he could to sleep, and in
that rocky hole, at a height of two thousand five hundred feet above the
level of the sea, through a peaceful night, the islanders enjoyed profound
repose.

The next day, the 30th of March, after a hasty breakfast, which consisted
solely of the roasted tragopan, the engineer wished to climb again to the
summit of the volcano, so as more attentively to survey the island upon
which he and his companions were imprisoned for life perhaps, should the
island be situated at a great distance from any land, or if it was out of
the course of vessels which visited the archipelagoes of the Pacific
Ocean. This time his companions followed him in the new exploration. They
also wished to see the island, on the productions of which they must
depend for the supply of all their wants.

It was about seven o'clock in the morning when Cyrus Harding, Herbert,
Pencroft, Gideon Spilett, and Neb quitted the encampment. No one appeared
to be anxious about their situation. They had faith in themselves,
doubtless, but it must be observed that the basis of this faith was not
the same with Harding as with his companions. The engineer had confidence,
because he felt capable of extorting from this wild country everything
necessary for the life of himself and his companions; the latter feared
nothing, just because Cyrus Harding was with them. Pencroft especially,
since the incident of the relighted fire, would not have despaired for an
instant, even if he was on a bare rock, if the engineer was with him on
the rock.

"Pshaw," said he, "we left Richmond without permission from the
authorities! It will be hard if we don't manage to get away some day or
other from a place where certainly no one will detain us!"

Cyrus Harding followed the same road as the evening before. They went
round the cone by the plateau which formed the shoulder, to the mouth of
the enormous chasm. The weather was magnificent. The sun rose in a pure
sky and flooded with his rays all the eastern side of the mountain.

The crater was reached. It was just what the engineer had made it out to
be in the dark; that is to say, a vast funnel which extended, widening, to
a height of a thousand feet above the plateau. Below the chasm, large
thick streaks of lava wound over the sides of the mountain, and thus
marked the course of the eruptive matter to the lower valleys which
furrowed the northern part of the island.

The interior of the crater, whose inclination did not exceed thirty five
to forty degrees, presented no difficulties nor obstacles to the ascent.
Traces of very ancient lava were noticed, which probably had overflowed
the summit of the cone, before this lateral chasm had opened a new way to
it.

As to the volcanic chimney which established a communication between the
subterranean layers and the crater, its depth could not be calculated with
the eye, for it was lost in obscurity. But there was no doubt as to the
complete extinction of the volcano.

Before eight o'clock Harding and his companions were assembled at the
summit of the crater, on a conical mound which swelled the northern edge.

"The sea, the sea everywhere!" they cried, as if their lips could not
restrain the words which made islanders of them.

The sea, indeed, formed an immense circular sheet of water all around
them! Perhaps, on climbing again to the summit of the cone, Cyrus Harding
had had a hope of discovering some coast, some island shore, which he had
not been able to perceive in the dark the evening before. But nothing
appeared on the farthest verge of the horizon, that is to say over a
radius of more than fifty miles. No land in sight. Not a sail. Over all
this immense space the ocean alone was visible—the island occupied
the center of a circumference which appeared to be infinite.

The engineer and his companions, mute and motionless, surveyed for some
minutes every point of the ocean, examining it to its most extreme limits.
Even Pencroft, who possessed a marvelous power of sight, saw nothing; and
certainly if there had been land at the horizon, if it appeared only as an
indistinct vapor, the sailor would undoubtedly have found it out, for
nature had placed regular telescopes under his eyebrows.

From the ocean their gaze returned to the island which they commanded
entirely, and the first question was put by Gideon Spilett in these terms:

"About what size is this island?"

Truly, it did not appear large in the midst of the immense ocean.

Cyrus Harding reflected a few minutes; he attentively observed the
perimeter of the island, taking into consideration the height at which he
was placed; then,—

"My friends," said he, "I do not think I am mistaken in giving to the
shore of the island a circumference of more than a hundred miles."

"And consequently an area?"

"That is difficult to estimate," replied the engineer, "for it is so
uneven."

If Cyrus Harding was not mistaken in his calculation, the island had
almost the extent of Malta or Zante, in the Mediterranean, but it was at
the same time much more irregular and less rich in capes, promontories,
points, bays, or creeks. Its strange form caught the eye, and when Gideon
Spilett, on the engineer's advice, had drawn the outline, they found that
it resembled some fantastic animal, a monstrous leviathan, which lay
sleeping on the surface of the Pacific.

This was in fact the exact shape of the island, which it is of consequence
to know, and a tolerably correct map of it was immediately drawn by the
reporter.

The east part of the shore, where the castaways had landed, formed a wide
bay, terminated by a sharp cape, which had been concealed by a high point
from Pencroft on his first exploration. At the northeast two other capes
closed the bay, and between them ran a narrow gulf, which looked like the
half-open jaws of a formidable dog-fish.

From the northeast to the southwest the coast was rounded, like the
flattened cranium of an animal, rising again, forming a sort of
protuberance which did not give any particular shape to this part of the
island, of which the center was occupied by the volcano.

From this point the shore ran pretty regularly north and south, broken at
two-thirds of its perimeter by a narrow creek, from which it ended in a
long tail, similar to the caudal appendage of a gigantic alligator.

This tail formed a regular peninsula, which stretched more than thirty
miles into the sea, reckoning from the cape southeast of the island,
already mentioned; it curled round, making an open roadstead, which marked
out the lower shore of this strangely-formed land.

At the narrowest part, that is to say between the Chimneys and the creek
on the western shore, which corresponded to it in latitude, the island
only measured ten miles; but its greatest length, from the jaws at the
northeast to the extremity of the tail of the southwest, was not less than
thirty miles.

As to the interior of the island, its general aspect was this, very woody
throughout the southern part from the mountain to the shore, and arid and
sandy in the northern part. Between the volcano and the east coast Cyrus
Harding and his companions were surprised to see a lake, bordered with
green trees, the existence of which they had not suspected. Seen from this
height, the lake appeared to be on the same level as the ocean, but, on
reflection, the engineer explained to his companions that the altitude of
this little sheet of water must be about three hundred feet, because the
plateau, which was its basin, was but a prolongation of the coast.

"Is it a freshwater lake?" asked Pencroft.

"Certainly," replied the engineer, "for it must be fed by the water which
flows from the mountain."

"I see a little river which runs into it," said Herbert, pointing out a
narrow stream, which evidently took its source somewhere in the west.

"Yes," said Harding; "and since this stream feeds the lake, most probably
on the side near the sea there is an outlet by which the surplus water
escapes. We shall see that on our return."

This little winding watercourse and the river already mentioned
constituted the water-system, at least such as it was displayed to the
eyes of the explorers. However, it was possible that under the masses of
trees which covered two-thirds of the island, forming an immense forest,
other rivers ran towards the sea. It might even be inferred that such was
the case, so rich did this region appear in the most magnificent specimens
of the flora of the temperate zones. There was no indication of running
water in the north, though perhaps there might be stagnant water among the
marshes in the northeast; but that was all, in addition to the downs,
sand, and aridity which contrasted so strongly with the luxuriant
vegetation of the rest of the island.

The volcano did not occupy the central part; it rose, on the contrary, in
the northwestern region, and seemed to mark the boundary of the two zones.
At the southwest, at the south, and the southeast, the first part of the
spurs were hidden under masses of verdure. At the north, on the contrary,
one could follow their ramifications, which died away on the sandy plains.
It was on this side that, at the time when the mountain was in a state of
eruption, the discharge had worn away a passage, and a large heap of lava
had spread to the narrow jaw which formed the northeastern gulf.

Cyrus Harding and his companions remained an hour at the top of the
mountain. The island was displayed under their eyes, like a plan in relief
with different tints, green for the forests, yellow for the sand, blue for
the water. They viewed it in its tout-ensemble, nothing remained concealed
but the ground hidden by verdure, the hollows of the valleys, and the
interior of the volcanic chasms.

One important question remained to be solved, and the answer would have a
great effect upon the future of the castaways.

Was the island inhabited?

It was the reporter who put this question, to which after the close
examination they had just made, the answer seemed to be in the negative.

Nowhere could the work of a human hand be perceived. Not a group of huts,
not a solitary cabin, not a fishery on the shore. No smoke curling in the
air betrayed the presence of man. It is true, a distance of nearly thirty
miles separated the observers from the extreme points, that is, of the
tail which extended to the southwest, and it would have been difficult,
even to Pencroft's eyes, to discover a habitation there. Neither could the
curtain of verdure, which covered three-quarters of the island, be raised
to see if it did not shelter some straggling village. But in general the
islanders live on the shores of the narrow spaces which emerge above the
waters of the Pacific, and this shore appeared to be an absolute desert.

Until a more complete exploration, it might be admitted that the island
was uninhabited. But was it frequented, at least occasionally, by the
natives of neighboring islands? It was difficult to reply to this
question. No land appeared within a radius of fifty miles. But fifty miles
could be easily crossed, either by Malay proas or by the large Polynesian
canoes. Everything depended on the position of the island, of its
isolation in the Pacific, or of its proximity to archipelagoes. Would
Cyrus Harding be able to find out their latitude and longitude without
instruments? It would be difficult. Since he was in doubt, it was best to
take precautions against a possible descent of neighboring natives.

The exploration of the island was finished, its shape determined, its
features made out, its extent calculated, the water and mountain systems
ascertained. The disposition of the forests and plains had been marked in
a general way on the reporter's plan. They had now only to descend the
mountain slopes again, and explore the soil, in the triple point of view,
of its mineral, vegetable, and animal resources.

But before giving his companions the signal for departure, Cyrus Harding
said to them in a calm, grave voice,—

"Here, my friends, is the small corner of land upon which the hand of the
Almighty has thrown us. We are going to live here; a long time, perhaps.
Perhaps, too, unexpected help will arrive, if some ship passes by chance.
I say by chance, because this is an unimportant island; there is not even
a port in which ships could anchor, and it is to be feared that it is
situated out of the route usually followed, that is to say, too much to
the south for the ships which frequent the archipelagoes of the Pacific,
and too much to the north for those which go to Australia by doubling Cape
Horn. I wish to hide nothing of our position from you—"

"And you are right, my dear Cyrus," replied the reporter, with animation.
"You have to deal with men. They have confidence in you, and you can
depend upon them. Is it not so, my friends?"

"I will obey you in everything, captain," said Herbert, seizing the
engineer's hand.

"My master always, and everywhere!" cried Neb.

"As for me," said the sailor, "if I ever grumble at work, my name's not
Jack Pencroft, and if you like, captain, we will make a little America of
this island! We will build towns, we will establish railways, start
telegraphs, and one fine day, when it is quite changed, quite put in order
and quite civilized, we will go and offer it to the government of the
Union. Only, I ask one thing."

"What is that?" said the reporter.

"It is, that we do not consider ourselves castaways, but colonists, who
have come here to settle." Harding could not help smiling, and the
sailor's idea was adopted. He then thanked his companions, and added, that
he would rely on their energy and on the aid of Heaven.

"Well, now let us set off to the Chimneys!" cried Pencroft.

"One minute, my friends," said the engineer. "It seems to me it would be a
good thing to give a name to this island, as well as to, the capes,
promontories, and watercourses, which we can see.

"Very good," said the reporter. "In the future, that will simplify the
instructions which we shall have to give and follow."

"Indeed," said the sailor, "already it is something to be able to say
where one is going, and where one has come from. At least, it looks like
somewhere."

"The Chimneys, for example," said Herbert.

"Exactly!" replied Pencroft. "That name was the most convenient, and it
came to me quite of myself. Shall we keep the name of the Chimneys for our
first encampment, captain?"

"Yes, Pencroft, since you have so christened it."

"Good! as for the others, that will be easy," returned the sailor, who was
in high spirits. "Let us give them names, as the Robinsons did, whose
story Herbert has often read to me; Providence Bay, Whale Point, Cape
Disappointment!"

"Why not?" replied Pencroft. "Port Neb, that would do very well! And Cape
Gideon—"

"I should prefer borrowing names from our country," said the reporter,
"which would remind us of America."

"Yes, for the principal ones," then said Cyrus Harding; "for those of the
bays and seas, I admit it willingly. We might give to that vast bay on the
east the name of Union Bay, for example; to that large hollow on the
south, Washington Bay; to the mountain upon which we are standing, that of
Mount Franklin; to that lake which is extended under our eyes, that of
Lake Grant; nothing could be better, my friends. These names will recall
our country, and those of the great citizens who have honored it; but for
the rivers, gulfs, capes, and promontories, which we perceive from the top
of this mountain, rather let us choose names which will recall their
particular shape. They will impress themselves better on our memory, and
at the same time will be more practical. The shape of the island is so
strange that we shall not be troubled to imagine what it resembles. As to
the streams which we do not know as yet, in different parts of the forest
which we shall explore later, the creeks which afterwards will be
discovered, we can christen them as we find them. What do you think, my
friends?"

The engineer's proposal was unanimously agreed to by his companions. The
island was spread out under their eyes like a map, and they had only to
give names to all its angles and points. Gideon Spilett would write them
down, and the geographical nomenclature of the island would be definitely
adopted. First, they named the two bays and the mountain, Union Bay,
Washington Bay, and Mount Franklin, as the engineer had suggested.

"Now," said the reporter, "to this peninsula at the southwest of the
island, I propose to give the name of Serpentine Peninsula, and that of
Reptile-end to the bent tail which terminates it, for it is just like a
reptile's tail."

"Adopted," said the engineer.

"Now," said Herbert, pointing to the other extremity of the island, "let
us call this gulf which is so singularly like a pair of open jaws, Shark
Gulf."

"Capital!" cried Pencroft, "and we can complete the resemblance by naming
the two parts of the jaws Mandible Cape."

"But there are two capes," observed the reporter.

"Well," replied Pencroft, "we can have North Mandible Cape and South
Mandible Cape."

"They are inscribed," said Spilett.

"There is only the point at the southeastern extremity of the island to be
named," said Pencroft.

"That is, the extremity of Union Bay?" asked Herbert.

"Claw Cape," cried Neb directly, who also wished to be godfather to some
part of his domain.

In truth, Neb had found an excellent name, for this cape was very like the
powerful claw of the fantastic animal which this singularly-shaped island
represented.

Pencroft was delighted at the turn things had taken, and their
imaginations soon gave to the river which furnished the settlers with
drinking water and near which the balloon had thrown them, the name of the
Mercy, in true gratitude to Providence. To the islet upon which the
castaways had first landed, the name of Safety Island; to the plateau
which crowned the high granite precipice above the Chimneys, and from
whence the gaze could embrace the whole of the vast bay, the name of
Prospect Heights.

Lastly, all the masses of impenetrable wood which covered the Serpentine
Peninsula were named the forests of the Far West.

The nomenclature of the visible and known parts of the island was thus
finished, and later, they would complete it as they made fresh
discoveries.

As to the points of the compass, the engineer had roughly fixed them by
the height and position of the sun, which placed Union Bay and Prospect
Heights to the east. But the next day, by taking the exact hour of the
rising and setting of the sun, and by marking its position between this
rising and setting, he reckoned to fix the north of the island exactly,
for, in consequence of its situation in the Southern Hemisphere, the sun,
at the precise moment of its culmination, passed in the north and not in
the south, as, in its apparent movement, it seems to do, to those places
situated in the Northern Hemisphere.

Everything was finished, and the settlers had only to descend Mount
Franklin to return to the Chimneys, when Pencroft cried out,—

"Well! we are preciously stupid!"

"Why?" asked Gideon Spilett, who had closed his notebook and risen to
depart.

"Why! our island! we have forgotten to christen it!"

Herbert was going to propose to give it the engineer's name and all his
companions would have applauded him, when Cyrus Harding said simply,—

"Let us give it the name of a great citizen, my friend; of him who now
struggles to defend the unity of the American Republic! Let us call it
Lincoln Island!"

The engineer's proposal was replied to by three hurrahs.

And that evening, before sleeping, the new colonists talked of their
absent country; they spoke of the terrible war which stained it with
blood; they could not doubt that the South would soon be subdued, and that
the cause of the North, the cause of justice, would triumph, thanks to
Grant, thanks to Lincoln!

Now this happened the 30th of March, 1865. They little knew that sixteen
days afterwards a frightful crime would be committed in Washington, and
that on Good Friday Abraham Lincoln would fall by the hand of a fanatic.

Chapter 12

They now began the descent of the mountain. Climbing down the crater, they
went round the cone and reached their encampment of the previous night.
Pencroft thought it must be breakfast-time, and the watches of the
reporter and engineer were therefore consulted to find out the hour.

That of Gideon Spilett had been preserved from the sea-water, as he had
been thrown at once on the sand out of reach of the waves. It was an
instrument of excellent quality, a perfect pocket chronometer, which the
reporter had not forgotten to wind up carefully every day.

As to the engineer's watch, it, of course, had stopped during the time
which he had passed on the downs.

The engineer now wound it up, and ascertaining by the height of the sun
that it must be about nine o'clock in the morning, he put his watch at
that hour.

"No, my dear Spilett, wait. You have kept the Richmond time, have you
not?"

"Yes, Cyrus."

"Consequently, your watch is set by the meridian of that town, which is
almost that of Washington?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Very well, keep it thus. Content yourself with winding it up very,
exactly, but do not touch the hands. This may be of use to us.

"What will be the good of that?" thought the sailor.

They ate, and so heartily, that the store of game and almonds was totally
exhausted. But Pencroft was not at all uneasy, they would supply
themselves on the way. Top, whose share had been very much to his taste,
would know how to find some fresh game among the brushwood. Moreover, the
sailor thought of simply asking the engineer to manufacture some powder
and one or two fowling-pieces; he supposed there would be no difficulty in
that.

On leaving the plateau, the captain proposed to his companions to return
to the Chimneys by a new way. He wished to reconnoiter Lake Grant, so
magnificently framed in trees. They therefore followed the crest of one of
the spurs, between which the creek that supplied the lake probably had its
source. In talking, the settlers already employed the names which they had
just chosen, which singularly facilitated the exchange of their ideas.
Herbert and Pencroft—the one young and the other very boyish—were
enchanted, and while walking, the sailor said,

"Hey, Herbert! how capital it sounds! It will be impossible to lose
ourselves, my boy, since, whether we follow the way to Lake Grant, or
whether we join the Mercy through the woods of the Far West, we shall be
certain to arrive at Prospect Heights, and, consequently, at Union Bay!"

It had been agreed, that without forming a compact band, the settlers
should not stray away from each other. It was very certain that the thick
forests of the island were inhabited by dangerous animals, and it was
prudent to be on their guard. In general, Pencroft, Herbert, and Neb
walked first, preceded by Top, who poked his nose into every bush. The
reporter and the engineer went together, Gideon Spilett ready to note
every incident, the engineer silent for the most part, and only stepping
aside to pick up one thing or another, a mineral or vegetable substance,
which he put into his pocket, without making any remark.

"What can he be picking up?" muttered Pencroft. "I have looked in vain for
anything that's worth the trouble of stooping for."

Towards ten o'clock the little band descended the last declivities of
Mount Franklin. As yet the ground was scantily strewn with bushes and
trees. They were walking over yellowish calcinated earth, forming a plain
of nearly a mile long, which extended to the edge of the wood. Great
blocks of that basalt, which, according to Bischof, takes three hundred
and fifty millions of years to cool, strewed the plain, very confused in
some places. However, there were here no traces of lava, which was spread
more particularly over the northern slopes.

Cyrus Harding expected to reach, without incident, the course of the
creek, which he supposed flowed under the trees at the border of the
plain, when he saw Herbert running hastily back, while Neb and the sailor
were hiding behind the rocks.

"What's the matter, my boy?" asked Spilett.

"Smoke," replied Herbert. "We have seen smoke among the rocks, a hundred
paces from us."

"Men in this place?" cried the reporter.

"We must avoid showing ourselves before knowing with whom we have to
deal," replied Cyrus Harding. "I trust that there are no natives on this
island; I dread them more than anything else. Where is Top?"

"Top is on before."

"And he doesn't bark?"

"No."

"That is strange. However, we must try to call him back."

In a few moments, the engineer, Gideon Spilett, and Herbert had rejoined
their two companions, and like them, they kept out of sight behind the
heaps of basalt.

From thence they clearly saw smoke of a yellowish color rising in the air.

Top was recalled by a slight whistle from his master, and the latter,
signing to his companions to wait for him, glided away among the rocks.
The colonists, motionless, anxiously awaited the result of this
exploration, when a shout from the engineer made them hasten forward. They
soon joined him, and were at once struck with a disagreeable odor which
impregnated the atmosphere.

The odor, easily recognized, was enough for the engineer to guess what the
smoke was which at first, not without cause, had startled him.

"This fire," said he, "or rather, this smoke is produced by nature alone.
There is a sulphur spring there, which will cure all our sore throats."

"Captain!" cried Pencroft. "What a pity that I haven't got a cold!"

The settlers then directed their steps towards the place from which the
smoke escaped. They there saw a sulphur spring which flowed abundantly
between the rocks, and its waters discharged a strong sulphuric acid odor,
after having absorbed the oxygen of the air.

Cyrus Harding, dipping in his hand, felt the water oily to the touch. He
tasted it and found it rather sweet. As to its temperature, that he
estimated at ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit. Herbert having asked on what
he based this calculation,—

"Its quite simple, my boy," said he, "for, in plunging my hand into the
water, I felt no sensation either of heat or cold. Therefore it has the
same temperature as the human body, which is about ninety-five degrees."

The sulphur spring not being of any actual use to the settlers, they
proceeded towards the thick border of the forest, which began some hundred
paces off.

There, as they had conjectured, the waters of the stream flowed clear and
limpid between high banks of red earth, the color of which betrayed the
presence of oxide of iron. From this color, the name of Red Creek was
immediately given to the watercourse.

It was only a large stream, deep and clear, formed of the mountain water,
which, half river, half torrent, here rippling peacefully over the sand,
there falling against the rocks or dashing down in a cascade, ran towards
the lake, over a distance of a mile and a half, its breadth varying from
thirty to forty feet. Its waters were sweet, and it was supposed that
those of the lake were so also. A fortunate circumstance, in the event of
their finding on its borders a more suitable dwelling than the Chimneys.

As to the trees, which some hundred feet downwards shaded the banks of the
creek, they belonged, for the most part, to the species which abound in
the temperate zone of America and Tasmania, and no longer to those
coniferae observed in that portion of the island already explored to some
miles from Prospect Heights. At this time of the year, the commencement of
the month of April, which represents the month of October, in this
hemisphere, that is, the beginning of autumn, they were still in full
leaf. They consisted principally of casuarinas and eucalypti, some of
which next year would yield a sweet manna, similar to the manna of the
East. Clumps of Australian cedars rose on the sloping banks, which were
also covered with the high grass called "tussac" in New Holland; but the
cocoanut, so abundant in the archipelagoes of the Pacific, seemed to be
wanting in the island, the latitude, doubtless, being too low.

"What a pity!" said Herbert, "such a useful tree, and which has such
beautiful nuts!"

As to the birds, they swarmed among the scanty branches of the eucalypti
and casuarinas, which did not hinder the display of their wings. Black,
white, or gray cockatoos, paroquets, with plumage of all colors,
kingfishers of a sparkling green and crowned with red, blue lories, and
various other birds appeared on all sides, as through a prism, fluttering
about and producing a deafening clamor. Suddenly, a strange concert of
discordant voices resounded in the midst of a thicket. The settlers heard
successively the song of birds, the cry of quadrupeds, and a sort of
clacking which they might have believed to have escaped from the lips of a
native. Neb and Herbert rushed towards the bush, forgetting even the most
elementary principles of prudence. Happily, they found there, neither a
formidable wild beast nor a dangerous native, but merely half a dozen
mocking and singing birds, known as mountain pheasants. A few skillful
blows from a stick soon put an end to their concert, and procured
excellent food for the evening's dinner.

Herbert also discovered some magnificent pigeons with bronzed wings, some
superbly crested, others draped in green, like their congeners at
Port-Macquarie; but it was impossible to reach them, or the crows and
magpies which flew away in flocks.

A charge of small shot would have made great slaughter among these birds,
but the hunters were still limited to sticks and stones, and these
primitive weapons proved very insufficient.

Their insufficiency was still more clearly shown when a troop of
quadrupeds, jumping, bounding, making leaps of thirty feet, regular flying
mammiferae, fled over the thickets, so quickly and at such a height, that
one would have thought that they passed from one tree to another like
squirrels.

"Kangaroos!" cried Herbert.

"Are they good to eat?" asked Pencroft.

"Stewed," replied the reporter, "their flesh is equal to the best venison!—"

Gideon Spilett had not finished this exciting sentence when the sailor,
followed by Neb and Herbert, darted on the kangaroos tracks. Cyrus Harding
called them back in vain. But it was in vain too for the hunters to pursue
such agile game, which went bounding away like balls. After a chase of
five minutes, they lost their breath, and at the same time all sight of
the creatures, which disappeared in the wood. Top was not more successful
than his masters.

"Captain," said Pencroft, when the engineer and the reporter had rejoined
them, "Captain, you see quite well we can't get on unless we make a few
guns. Will that be possible?"

"Perhaps," replied the engineer, "but we will begin by first manufacturing
some bows and arrows, and I don't doubt that you will become as clever in
the use of them as the Australian hunters."

"Bows and arrows!" said Pencroft scornfully. "That's all very well for
children!"

"Don't be proud, friend Pencroft," replied the reporter. "Bows and arrows
were sufficient for centuries to stain the earth with blood. Powder is but
a thing of yesterday, and war is as old as the human race—unhappily."

"Besides, we had to deal just now with the species which is most difficult
to catch. They were giants with long gray fur; but if I am not mistaken,
there exist black and red kangaroos, rock kangaroos, and rat kangaroos,
which are more easy to get hold of. It is reckoned that there are about a
dozen species."

"Herbert," replied the sailor sententiously, "there is only one species of
kangaroos to me, that is 'kangaroo on the spit,' and it's just the one we
haven't got this evening!"

They could not help laughing at Master Pencroft's new classification. The
honest sailor did not hide his regret at being reduced for dinner to the
singing pheasants, but fortune once more showed itself obliging to him.

In fact, Top, who felt that his interest was concerned went and ferreted
everywhere with an instinct doubled by a ferocious appetite. It was even
probable that if some piece of game did fall into his clutches, none would
be left for the hunters, if Top was hunting on his own account; but Neb
watched him and he did well.

Towards three o'clock the dog disappeared in the brushwood and gruntings
showed that he was engaged in a struggle with some animal. Neb rushed
after him, and soon saw Top eagerly devouring a quadruped, which ten
seconds later would have been past recognizing in Top's stomach. But
fortunately the dog had fallen upon a brood, and besides the victim he was
devouring, two other rodents—the animals in question belonged to
that order—lay strangled on the turf.

Neb reappeared triumphantly holding one of the rodents in each hand. Their
size exceeded that of a rabbit, their hair was yellow, mingled with green
spots, and they had the merest rudiments of tails.

The citizens of the Union were at no loss for the right name of these
rodents. They were maras, a sort of agouti, a little larger than their
congeners of tropical countries, regular American rabbits, with long ears,
jaws armed on each side with five molars, which distinguish the agouti.

"Hurrah!" cried Pencroft, "the roast has arrived! and now we can go home."

The walk, interrupted for an instant, was resumed. The limpid waters of
the Red Creek flowed under an arch of casuarinas, banksias, and gigantic
gum-trees. Superb lilacs rose to a height of twenty feet. Other
arborescent species, unknown to the young naturalist, bent over the
stream, which could be heard murmuring beneath the bowers of verdure.

Meanwhile the stream grew much wider, and Cyrus Harding supposed that they
would soon reach its mouth. In fact, on emerging from beneath a thick
clump of beautiful trees, it suddenly appeared before their eyes.

The explorers had arrived on the western shore of Lake Grant. The place
was well worth looking at. This extent of water, of a circumference of
nearly seven miles and an area of two hundred and fifty acres, reposed in
a border of diversified trees. Towards the east, through a curtain of
verdure, picturesquely raised in some places, sparkled an horizon of sea.
The lake was curved at the north, which contrasted with the sharp outline
of its lower part. Numerous aquatic birds frequented the shores of this
little Ontario, in which the thousand isles of its American namesake were
represented by a rock which emerged from its surface, some hundred feet
from the southern shore. There lived in harmony several couples of
kingfishers perched on a stone, grave, motionless, watching for fish, then
darting down, they plunged in with a sharp cry, and reappeared with their
prey in their beaks. On the shores and on the islets, strutted wild ducks,
pelicans, water-hens, red-beaks, philedons, furnished with a tongue like a
brush, and one or two specimens of the splendid menura, the tail of which
expands gracefully like a lyre.

As to the water of the lake, it was sweet, limpid, rather dark, and from
certain bubblings, and the concentric circles which crossed each other on
the surface, it could not be doubted that it abounded in fish.

"This lake is really beautiful!" said Gideon Spilett. "We could live on
its borders!"

"We will live there!" replied Harding.

The settlers, wishing to return to the Chimneys by the shortest way,
descended towards the angle formed on the south by the junction of the
lake's bank. It was not without difficulty that they broke a path through
the thickets and brushwood which had never been put aside by the hand of
men, and they thus went towards the shore, so as to arrive at the north of
Prospect Heights. Two miles were cleared in this direction, and then,
after they had passed the last curtain of trees, appeared the plateau,
carpeted with thick turf, and beyond that the infinite sea.

To return to the Chimneys, it was enough to cross the plateau obliquely
for the space of a mile, and then to descend to the elbow formed by the
first detour of the Mercy. But the engineer desired to know how and where
the overplus of the water from the lake escaped, and the exploration was
prolonged under the trees for a mile and a half towards the north. It was
most probable that an overfall existed somewhere, and doubtless through a
cleft in the granite. This lake was only, in short, an immense center
basin, which was filled by degrees by the creek, and its waters must
necessarily pass to the sea by some fall. If it was so, the engineer
thought that it might perhaps be possible to utilize this fall and borrow
its power, actually lost without profit to any one. They continued then to
follow the shores of Lake Grant by climbing the plateau; but, after having
gone a mile in this direction, Cyrus Harding had not been able to discover
the overfall, which, however, must exist somewhere.

It was then half-past four. In order to prepare for dinner it was
necessary that the settlers should return to their dwelling. The little
band retraced their steps, therefore, and by the left bank of the Mercy,
Cyrus Harding and his companions arrived at the Chimneys.

The fire was lighted, and Neb and Pencroft, on whom the functions of cooks
naturally devolved, to the one in his quality of Negro, to the other in
that of sailor, quickly prepared some broiled agouti, to which they did
great justice.

The repast at length terminated; at the moment when each one was about to
give himself up to sleep, Cyrus Harding drew from his pocket little
specimens of different sorts of minerals, and just said,—

"My friends, this is iron mineral, this a pyrite, this is clay, this is
lime, and this is coal. Nature gives us these things. It is our business
to make a right use of them. To-morrow we will commence operations."

Chapter 13

"Well, captain, where are we going to begin?" asked Pencroft next morning
of the engineer.

"At the beginning," replied Cyrus Harding.

And in fact, the settlers were compelled to begin "at the very beginning."
They did not possess even the tools necessary for making tools, and they
were not even in the condition of nature, who, "having time, husbands her
strength." They had no time, since they had to provide for the immediate
wants of their existence, and though, profiting by acquired experience,
they had nothing to invent, still they had everything to make; their iron
and their steel were as yet only in the state of minerals, their
earthenware in the state of clay, their linen and their clothes in the
state of textile material.

It must be said, however, that the settlers were "men" in the complete and
higher sense of the word. The engineer Harding could not have been
seconded by more intelligent companions, nor with more devotion and zeal.
He had tried them. He knew their abilities.

Gideon Spilett, a talented reporter, having learned everything so as to be
able to speak of everything, would contribute largely with his head and
hands to the colonization of the island. He would not draw back from any
task: a determined sportsman, he would make a business of what till then
had only been a pleasure to him.

Herbert, a gallant boy, already remarkably well informed in the natural
sciences, would render greater service to the common cause.

Neb was devotion personified. Clever, intelligent, indefatigable, robust,
with iron health, he knew a little about the work of the forge, and could
not fail to be very useful in the colony.

As to Pencroft, he had sailed over every sea, a carpenter in the dockyards
in Brooklyn, assistant tailor in the vessels of the state, gardener,
cultivator, during his holidays, etc., and like all seamen, fit for
anything, he knew how to do everything.

It would have been difficult to unite five men, better fitted to struggle
against fate, more certain to triumph over it.

"At the beginning," Cyrus Harding had said. Now this beginning of which
the engineer spoke was the construction of an apparatus which would serve
to transform the natural substances. The part which heat plays in these
transformations is known. Now fuel, wood or coal, was ready for immediate
use, an oven must be built to use it.

"What is this oven for?" asked Pencroft.

"To make the pottery which we have need of," replied Harding.

"And of what shall we make the oven?"

"With bricks."

"And the bricks?"

"With clay. Let us start, my friends. To save trouble, we will establish
our manufactory at the place of production. Neb will bring provisions, and
there will be no lack of fire to cook the food."

"No," replied the reporter; "but if there is a lack of food for want of
instruments for the chase?"

"Ah, if we only had a knife!" cried the sailor.

"Well?" asked Cyrus Harding.

"Well! I would soon make a bow and arrows, and then there could be plenty
of game in the larder!"

"Yes, a knife, a sharp blade." said the engineer, as if he was speaking to
himself.

At this moment his eyes fell upon Top, who was running about on the shore.
Suddenly Harding's face became animated.

"Top, here," said he.

The dog came at his master's call. The latter took Top's head between his
hands, and unfastening the collar which the animal wore round his neck, he
broke it in two, saying,—

"There are two knives, Pencroft!"

Two hurrahs from the sailor was the reply. Top's collar was made of a thin
piece of tempered steel. They had only to sharpen it on a piece of
sandstone, then to raise the edge on a finer stone. Now sandstone was
abundant on the beach, and two hours after the stock of tools in the
colony consisted of two sharp blades, which were easily fixed in solid
handles.

The production of these their first tools was hailed as a triumph. It was
indeed a valuable result of their labor, and a very opportune one. They
set out.

Cyrus Harding proposed that they should return to the western shore of the
lake, where the day before he had noticed the clayey ground of which he
possessed a specimen. They therefore followed the bank of the Mercy,
traversed Prospect Heights, and after a walk of five miles or more they
reached a glade, situated two hundred feet from Lake Grant.

On the way Herbert had discovered a tree, the branches of which the
Indians of South America employ for making their bows. It was the
crejimba, of the palm family, which does not bear edible fruit. Long
straight branches were cut, the leaves stripped off; it was shaped,
stronger in the middle, more slender at the extremities, and nothing
remained to be done but to find a plant fit to make the bow-string. This
was the "hibiscus heterophyllus," which furnishes fibers of such
remarkable tenacity that they have been compared to the tendons of
animals. Pencroft thus obtained bows of tolerable strength, for which he
only wanted arrows. These were easily made with straight stiff branches,
without knots, but the points with which they must be armed, that is to
say, a substance to serve in lieu of iron, could not be met with so
easily. But Pencroft said, that having done his part of the work, chance
would do the rest.

The settlers arrived on the ground which had been discovered the day
before. Being composed of the sort of clay which is used for making bricks
and tiles, it was very useful for the work in question. There was no great
difficulty in it. It was enough to scour the clay with sand, then to mold
the bricks and bake them by the heat of a wood fire.

Generally bricks are formed in molds, but the engineer contented himself
with making them by hand. All that day and the day following were employed
in this work. The clay, soaked in water, was mixed by the feet and hands
of the manipulators, and then divided into pieces of equal size. A
practiced workman can make, without a machine, about ten thousand bricks
in twelve hours; but in their two days work the five brickmakers on
Lincoln Island had not made more than three thousand, which were ranged
near each other, until the time when their complete desiccation would
permit them to be used in building the oven, that is to say, in three or
four days.

It was on the 2nd of April that Harding had employed himself in fixing the
orientation of the island, or, in other words, the precise spot where the
sun rose. The day before he had noted exactly the hour when the sun
disappeared beneath the horizon, making allowance for the refraction. This
morning he noted, no less exactly, the hour at which it reappeared.
Between this setting and rising twelve hours, twenty-four minutes passed.
Then, six hours, twelve minutes after its rising, the sun on this day
would exactly pass the meridian and the point of the sky which it occupied
at this moment would be the north. At the said hour, Cyrus marked this
point, and putting in a line with the sun two trees which would serve him
for marks, he thus obtained an invariable meridian for his ulterior
operations.

The settlers employed the two days before the oven was built in collecting
fuel. Branches were cut all round the glade, and they picked up all the
fallen wood under the trees. They were also able to hunt with greater
success, since Pencroft now possessed some dozen arrows armed with sharp
points. It was Top who had furnished these points, by bringing in a
porcupine, rather inferior eating, but of great value, thanks to the
quills with which it bristled. These quills were fixed firmly at the ends
of the arrows, the flight of which was made more certain by some
cockatoos' feathers. The reporter and Herbert soon became very skilful
archers. Game of all sorts in consequence abounded at the Chimneys,
capybaras, pigeons, agouties, grouse, etc. The greater part of these
animals were killed in the part of the forest on the left bank of the
Mercy, to which they gave the name of Jacamar Wood, in remembrance of the
bird which Pencroft and Herbert had pursued when on their first
exploration.

This game was eaten fresh, but they preserved some capybara hams, by
smoking them above a fire of green wood, after having perfumed them with
sweet-smelling leaves. However, this food, although very strengthening,
was always roast upon roast, and the party would have been delighted to
hear some soup bubbling on the hearth, but they must wait till a pot could
be made, and, consequently, till the oven was built.

During these excursions, which were not extended far from the brick-field,
the hunters could discern the recent passage of animals of a large size,
armed with powerful claws, but they could not recognize the species. Cyrus
Harding advised them to be very careful, as the forest probably enclosed
many dangerous beasts.

And he did right. Indeed, Gideon Spilett and Herbert one day saw an animal
which resembled a jaguar. Happily the creature did not attack them, or
they might not have escaped without a severe wound. As soon as he could
get a regular weapon, that is to say, one of the guns which Pencroft
begged for, Gideon Spilett resolved to make desperate war against the
ferocious beasts, and exterminate them from the island.

The Chimneys during these few days was not made more comfortable, for the
engineer hoped to discover, or build if necessary, a more convenient
dwelling. They contented themselves with spreading moss and dry leaves on
the sand of the passages, and on these primitive couches the tired workers
slept soundly.

They also reckoned the days they had passed on Lincoln Island, and from
that time kept a regular account. The 5th of April, which was Wednesday,
was twelve days from the time when the wind threw the castaways on this
shore.

On the 6th of April, at daybreak, the engineer and his companions were
collected in the glade, at the place where they were going to perform the
operation of baking the bricks. Naturally this had to be in the open air,
and not in a kiln, or rather, the agglomeration of bricks made an enormous
kiln, which would bake itself. The fuel, made of well-prepared fagots, was
laid on the ground and surrounded with several rows of dried bricks, which
soon formed an enormous cube, to the exterior of which they contrived
air-holes. The work lasted all day, and it was not till the evening that
they set fire to the fagots. No one slept that night, all watching
carefully to keep up the fire.

The operation lasted forty-eight hours, and succeeded perfectly. It then
became necessary to leave the smoking mass to cool, and during this time
Neb and Pencroft, guided by Cyrus Harding, brought, on a hurdle made of
interlaced branches, loads of carbonate of lime and common stones, which
were very abundant, to the north of the lake. These stones, when
decomposed by heat, made a very strong quicklime, greatly increased by
slacking, at least as pure as if it had been produced by the calcination
of chalk or marble. Mixed with sand the lime made excellent mortar.

The result of these different works was, that, on the 9th of April, the
engineer had at his disposal a quantity of prepared lime and some
thousands of bricks.

Without losing an instant, therefore, they began the construction of a
kiln to bake the pottery, which was indispensable for their domestic use.
They succeeded without much difficulty. Five days after, the kiln was
supplied with coal, which the engineer had discovered lying open to the
sky towards the mouth of the Red Creek, and the first smoke escaped from a
chimney twenty feet high. The glade was transformed into a manufactory,
and Pencroft was not far wrong in believing that from this kiln would
issue all the products of modern industry.

In the meantime what the settlers first manufactured was a common pottery
in which to cook their food. The chief material was clay, to which Harding
added a little lime and quartz. This paste made regular "pipe-clay," with
which they manufactured bowls, cups molded on stones of a proper size,
great jars and pots to hold water, etc. The shape of these objects was
clumsy and defective, but after they had been baked in a high temperature,
the kitchen of the Chimneys was provided with a number of utensils, as
precious to the settlers as the most beautifully enameled china. We must
mention here that Pencroft, desirous to know if the clay thus prepared was
worthy of its name of pipe-clay, made some large pipes, which he thought
charming, but for which, alas! he had no tobacco, and that was a great
privation to Pencroft. "But tobacco will come, like everything else!" he
repeated, in a burst of absolute confidence.

This work lasted till the 15th of April, and the time was well employed.
The settlers, having become potters, made nothing but pottery. When it
suited Cyrus Harding to change them into smiths, they would become smiths.
But the next day being Sunday, and also Easter Sunday, all agreed to
sanctify the day by rest. These Americans were religious men, scrupulous
observers of the precepts of the Bible, and their situation could not but
develop sentiments of confidence towards the Author of all things.

On the evening of the 15th of April they returned to the Chimneys,
carrying with them the pottery, the furnace being extinguished until they
could put it to a new use. Their return was marked by a fortunate
incident; the engineer discovered a substance which replaced tinder. It is
known that a spongy, velvety flesh is procured from a certain mushroom of
the genus polyporous. Properly prepared, it is extremely inflammable,
especially when it has been previously saturated with gunpowder, or boiled
in a solution of nitrate or chlorate of potash. But, till then, they had
not found any of these polypores or even any of the morels which could
replace them. On this day, the engineer, seeing a plant belonging to the
wormwood genus, the principal species of which are absinthe, balm-mint,
tarragon, etc., gathered several tufts, and, presenting them to the
sailor, said,—

"Here, Pencroft, this will please you."

Pencroft looked attentively at the plant, covered with long silky hair,
the leaves being clothed with soft down.

"What's that, captain?" asked Pencroft. "Is it tobacco?"

"No," replied Harding, "it is wormwood; Chinese wormwood to the learned,
but to us it will be tinder."

When the wormwood was properly dried it provided them with a very
inflammable substance, especially afterwards when the engineer had
impregnated it with nitrate of potash, of which the island possessed
several beds, and which is in truth saltpeter.

The colonists had a good supper that evening. Neb prepared some agouti
soup, a smoked capybara ham, to which was added the boiled tubercules of
the "caladium macrorhizum," an herbaceous plant of the arum family. They
had an excellent taste, and were very nutritious, being something similar
to the substance which is sold in England under the name of "Portland
sago"; they were also a good substitute for bread, which the settlers in
Lincoln Island did not yet possess.

When supper was finished, before sleeping, Harding and his companions went
to take the air on the beach. It was eight o'clock in the evening; the
night was magnificent. The moon, which had been full five days before, had
not yet risen, but the horizon was already silvered by those soft, pale
shades which might be called the dawn of the moon. At the southern zenith
glittered the circumpolar constellations, and above all the Southern
Cross, which some days before the engineer had greeted on the summit of
Mount Franklin.

Cyrus Harding gazed for some time at this splendid constellation, which
has at its summit and at its base two stars of the first magnitude, at its
left arm a star of the second, and at its right arm a star of the third
magnitude.

Then, after some minutes thought—

"Herbert," he asked of the lad, "is not this the 15th of April?"

"Yes, captain," replied Herbert.

"Well, if I am not mistaken, to-morrow will be one of the four days in the
year in which the real time is identical with average time; that is to
say, my boy, that to-morrow, to within some seconds, the sun will pass the
meridian just at midday by the clocks. If the weather is fine I think that
I shall obtain the longitude of the island with an approximation of some
degrees."

"Without instruments, without sextant?" asked Gideon Spilett.

"Yes," replied the engineer. "Also, since the night is clear, I will try,
this very evening, to obtain our latitude by calculating the height of the
Southern Cross, that is, from the southern pole above the horizon. You
understand, my friends, that before undertaking the work of installation
in earnest it is not enough to have found out that this land is an island;
we must, as nearly as possible, know at what distance it is situated,
either from the American continent or Australia, or from the principal
archipelagoes of the Pacific."

"In fact," said the reporter, "instead of building a house it would be
more important to build a boat, if by chance we are not more than a
hundred miles from an inhabited coast."

"That is why," returned Harding, "I am going to try this evening to
calculate the latitude of Lincoln Island, and to-morrow, at midday, I will
try to calculate the longitude."

If the engineer had possessed a sextant, an apparatus with which the
angular distance of objects can be measured with great precision, there
would have been no difficulty in the operation. This evening by the height
of the pole, the next day by the passing of the sun at the meridian, he
would obtain the position of the island. But as they had not one he would
have to supply the deficiency.

Harding then entered the Chimneys. By the light of the fire he cut two
little flat rulers, which he joined together at one end so as to form a
pair of compasses, whose legs could separate or come together. The
fastening was fixed with a strong acacia thorn which was found in the wood
pile. This instrument finished, the engineer returned to the beach, but as
it was necessary to take the height of the pole from above a clear
horizon, that is, a sea horizon, and as Claw Cape hid the southern
horizon, he was obliged to look for a more suitable station. The best
would evidently have been the shore exposed directly to the south; but the
Mercy would have to be crossed, and that was a difficulty. Harding
resolved, in consequence, to make his observation from Prospect Heights,
taking into consideration its height above the level of the sea—a
height which he intended to calculate next day by a simple process of
elementary geometry.

The settlers, therefore, went to the plateau, ascending the left bank of
the Mercy, and placed themselves on the edge which looked northwest and
southeast, that is, above the curiously-shaped rocks which bordered the
river.

This part of the plateau commanded the heights of the left bank, which
sloped away to the extremity of Claw Cape, and to the southern side of the
island. No obstacle intercepted their gaze, which swept the horizon in a
semi-circle from the cape to Reptile End. To the south the horizon,
lighted by the first rays of the moon, was very clearly defined against
the sky.

At this moment the Southern Cross presented itself to the observer in an
inverted position, the star Alpha marking its base, which is nearer to the
southern pole.

This constellation is not situated as near to the antarctic pole as the
Polar Star is to the arctic pole. The star Alpha is about twenty-seven
degrees from it, but Cyrus Harding knew this and made allowance for it in
his calculation. He took care also to observe the moment when it passed
the meridian below the pole, which would simplify the operation.

Cyrus Harding pointed one leg of the compasses to the horizon, the other
to Alpha, and the space between the two legs gave him the angular distance
which separated Alpha from the horizon. In order to fix the angle
obtained, he fastened with thorns the two pieces of wood on a third placed
transversely, so that their separation should be properly maintained.

That done, there was only the angle to calculate by bringing back the
observation to the level of the sea, taking into consideration the
depression of the horizon, which would necessitate measuring the height of
the cliff. The value of this angle would give the height of Alpha, and
consequently that of the pole above the horizon, that is to say, the
latitude of the island, since the latitude of a point of the globe is
always equal to the height of the pole above the horizon of this point.

The calculations were left for the next day, and at ten o'clock every one
was sleeping soundly.

Chapter 14

The next day, the 16th of April, and Easter Sunday, the settlers issued
from the Chimneys at daybreak, and proceeded to wash their linen. The
engineer intended to manufacture soap as soon as he could procure the
necessary materials—soda or potash, fat or oil. The important
question of renewing their wardrobe would be treated of in the proper time
and place. At any rate their clothes would last at least six months
longer, for they were strong, and could resist the wear of manual labor.
But all would depend on the situation of the island with regard to
inhabited land. This would be settled to-day if the weather permitted.

The sun rising above a clear horizon, announced a magnificent day, one of
those beautiful autumn days which are like the last farewells of the warm
season.

It was now necessary to complete the observations of the evening before by
measuring the height of the cliff above the level of the sea.

"Shall you not need an instrument similar to the one which you used
yesterday?" said Herbert to the engineer.

"No, my boy," replied the latter, "we are going to proceed differently,
but in as precise a way."

Herbert, wishing to learn everything he could, followed the engineer to
the beach. Pencroft, Neb, and the reporter remained behind and occupied
themselves in different ways.

Cyrus Harding had provided himself with a straight stick, twelve feet
long, which he had measured as exactly as possible by comparing it with
his own height, which he knew to a hair. Herbert carried a plumb-line
which Harding had given him, that is to say, a simple stone fastened to
the end of a flexible fiber. Having reached a spot about twenty feet from
the edge of the beach, and nearly five hundred feet from the cliff, which
rose perpendicularly, Harding thrust the pole two feet into the sand, and
wedging it up carefully, he managed, by means of the plumb-line, to erect
it perpendicularly with the plane of the horizon.

That done, he retired the necessary distance, when, lying on the sand, his
eye glanced at the same time at the top of the pole and the crest of the
cliff. He carefully marked the place with a little stick.

Then addressing Herbert—"Do you know the first principles of
geometry?" he asked.

"Slightly, captain," replied Herbert, who did not wish to put himself
forward.

"You remember what are the properties of two similar triangles?"

"Yes," replied Herbert; "their homologous sides are proportional."

"Well, my boy, I have just constructed two similar right-angled triangles;
the first, the smallest, has for its sides the perpendicular pole, the
distance which separates the little stick from the foot of the pole and my
visual ray for hypothenuse; the second has for its sides the perpendicular
cliff, the height of which we wish to measure, the distance which
separates the little stick from the bottom of the cliff, and my visual ray
also forms its hypothenuse, which proves to be prolongation of that of the
first triangle."

"Ah, captain, I understand!" cried Herbert. "As the distance from the
stick to the pole is to the distance from the stick to the base of the
cliff, so is the height of the pole to the height of the cliff."

"Just so, Herbert," replied the engineer; "and when we have measured the
two first distances, knowing the height of the pole, we shall only have a
sum in proportion to do, which will give us the height of the cliff, and
will save us the trouble of measuring it directly."

The two horizontal distances were found out by means of the pole, whose
length above the sand was exactly ten feet.

The first distance was fifteen feet between the stick and the place where
the pole was thrust into the sand.

The second distance between the stick and the bottom of the cliff was five
hundred feet.

These measurements finished, Cyrus Harding and the lad returned to the
Chimneys.

The engineer then took a flat stone which he had brought back from one of
his previous excursions, a sort of slate, on which it was easy to trace
figures with a sharp shell. He then proved the following proportions:—

15:500::10:x
500 x 10 = 5000
5000 / 15 = 333.3

From which it was proved that the granite cliff measured 333 feet in
height.

Cyrus Harding then took the instrument which he had made the evening
before, the space between its two legs giving the angular distance between
the star Alpha and the horizon. He measured, very exactly, the opening of
this angle on a circumference which he divided into 360 equal parts. Now,
this angle by adding to it the twenty-seven degrees which separated Alpha
from the antarctic pole, and by reducing to the level of the sea the
height of the cliff on which the observation had been made, was found to
be fifty-three degrees. These fifty-three degrees being subtracted from
ninety degrees—the distance from the pole to the equator—there
remained thirty-seven degrees. Cyrus Harding concluded, therefore, that
Lincoln Island was situated on the thirty-seventh degree of the southern
latitude, or taking into consideration through the imperfection of the
performance, an error of five degrees, that it must be situated between
the thirty-fifth and the fortieth parallel.

There was only the longitude to be obtained, and the position of the
island would be determined, The engineer hoped to attempt this the same
day, at twelve o'clock, at which moment the sun would pass the meridian.

It was decided that Sunday should be spent in a walk, or rather an
exploring expedition, to that side of the island between the north of the
lake and Shark Gulf, and if there was time they would push their
discoveries to the northern side of Cape South Mandible. They would
breakfast on the downs, and not return till evening.

At half-past eight the little band was following the edge of the channel.
On the other side, on Safety Islet, numerous birds were gravely strutting.
They were divers, easily recognized by their cry, which much resembles the
braying of a donkey. Pencroft only considered them in an eatable point of
view, and learnt with some satisfaction that their flesh, though blackish,
is not bad food.

Great amphibious creatures could also be seen crawling on the sand; seals,
doubtless, who appeared to have chosen the islet for a place of refuge. It
was impossible to think of those animals in an alimentary point of view,
for their oily flesh is detestable; however, Cyrus Harding observed them
attentively, and without making known his idea, he announced to his
companions that very soon they would pay a visit to the islet. The beach
was strewn with innumerable shells, some of which would have rejoiced the
heart of a conchologist; there were, among others, the phasianella, the
terebratual, etc. But what would be of more use, was the discovery, by
Neb, at low tide, of a large oysterbed among the rocks, nearly five miles
from the Chimneys.

"Neb will not have lost his day," cried Pencroft, looking at the spacious
oyster-bed.

"It is really a fortunate discovery," said the reporter, "and as it is
said that each oyster produces yearly from fifty to sixty thousand eggs,
we shall have an inexhaustible supply there."

"Only I believe that the oyster is not very nourishing," said Herbert.

"No," replied Harding. "The oyster contains very little nitrogen, and if a
man lived exclusively on them, he would have to eat not less than fifteen
to sixteen dozen a day."

"Capital!" replied Pencroft. "We might swallow dozens and dozens without
exhausting the bed. Shall we take some for breakfast?"

And without waiting for a reply to this proposal, knowing that it would be
approved of, the sailor and Neb detached a quantity of the molluscs. They
put them in a sort of net of hibiscus fiber, which Neb had manufactured,
and which already contained food; they then continued to climb the coast
between the downs and the sea.

From time to time Harding consulted his watch, so as to be prepared in
time for the solar observation, which had to be made exactly at midday.

All that part of the island was very barren as far as the point which
closed Union Bay, and which had received the name of Cape South Mandible.
Nothing could be seen there but sand and shells, mingled with debris of
lava. A few sea-birds frequented this desolate coast, gulls, great
albatrosses, as well as wild duck, for which Pencroft had a great fancy.
He tried to knock some over with an arrow, but without result, for they
seldom perched, and he could not hit them on the wing.

This led the sailor to repeat to the engineer,—

"You see, captain, so long as we have not one or two fowling-pieces, we
shall never get anything!"

"Doubtless, Pencroft," replied the reporter, "but it depends on you.
Procure us some iron for the barrels, steel for the hammers, saltpeter.
coal and sulphur for powder, mercury and nitric acid for the fulminate,
and lead for the shot, and the captain will make us first-rate guns."

"Oh!" replied the engineer, "we might, no doubt, find all these substances
on the island, but a gun is a delicate instrument, and needs very
particular tools. However, we shall see later!"

"Why," cried Pencroft, "were we obliged to throw overboard all the weapons
we had with us in the car, all our implements, even our pocket-knives?"

"But if we had not thrown them away, Pencroft, the balloon would have
thrown us to the bottom of the sea!" said Herbert.

"What you say is true, my boy," replied the sailor.

Then passing to another idea,—"Think," said he, "how astounded
Jonathan Forster and his companions must have been when, next morning,
they found the place empty, and the machine flown away!"

"I am utterly indifferent about knowing what they may have thought," said
the reporter.

"It was all my idea, that!" said Pencroft, with a satisfied air.

"A splendid idea, Pencroft!" replied Gideon Spilett, laughing, "and which
has placed us where we are."

"I would rather be here than in the hands of the Southerners," cried the
sailor, "especially since the captain has been kind enough to come and
join us again."

"So would I, truly!" replied the reporter. "Besides, what do we want?
Nothing."

"If that is not—everything!" replied Pencroft, laughing and
shrugging his shoulders. "But, some day or other, we shall find means of
going away!"

"Sooner, perhaps, than you imagine, my friends," remarked the engineer,
"if Lincoln Island is but a medium distance from an inhabited island, or
from a continent. We shall know in an hour. I have not a map of the
Pacific, but my memory has preserved a very clear recollection of its
southern part. The latitude which I obtained yesterday placed New Zealand
to the west of Lincoln Island, and the coast of Chile to the east. But
between these two countries, there is a distance of at least six thousand
miles. It has, therefore, to be determined what point in this great space
the island occupies, and this the longitude will give us presently, with a
sufficient approximation, I hope."

"Is not the archipelago of the Pomoutous the nearest point to us in
latitude?" asked Herbert.

"Yes," replied the engineer, "but the distance which separates us from it
is more than twelve hundred miles."

"And that way?" asked Neb, who followed the conversation with extreme
interest, pointing to the south.

"That way, nothing," replied Pencroft.

"Nothing, indeed," added the engineer.

"Well, Cyrus," asked the reporter, "if Lincoln Island is not more than two
or three thousand miles from New Zealand or Chile?"

"Well," replied the engineer, "instead of building a house we will build a
boat, and Master Pencroft shall be put in command—"

"Well then," cried the sailor, "I am quite ready to be captain—as
soon as you can make a craft that's able to keep at sea!"

"We shall do it, if it is necessary," replied Cyrus Harding.

But while these men, who really hesitated at nothing, were talking, the
hour approached at which the observation was to be made. What Cyrus
Harding was to do to ascertain the passage of the sun at the meridian of
the island, without an instrument of any sort, Herbert could not guess.

The observers were then about six miles from the Chimneys, not far from
that part of the downs in which the engineer had been found after his
enigmatical preservation. They halted at this place and prepared for
breakfast, for it was half-past eleven. Herbert went for some fresh water
from a stream which ran near, and brought it back in a jug, which Neb had
provided.

During these preparations Harding arranged everything for his astronomical
observation. He chose a clear place on the shore, which the ebbing tide
had left perfectly level. This bed of fine sand was as smooth as ice, not
a grain out of place. It was of little importance whether it was
horizontal or not, and it did not matter much whether the stick six feet
high, which was planted there, rose perpendicularly. On the contrary, the
engineer inclined it towards the south, that is to say, in the direction
of the coast opposite to the sun, for it must not be forgotten that the
settlers in Lincoln Island, as the island was situated in the Southern
Hemisphere, saw the radiant planet describe its diurnal arc above the
northern, and not above the southern horizon.

Herbert now understood how the engineer was going to proceed to ascertain
the culmination of the sun, that is to say its passing the meridian of the
island or, in other words, determine due south. It was by means of the
shadow cast on the sand by the stick, a way which, for want of an
instrument, would give him a suitable approach to the result which he
wished to obtain.

In fact, the moment when this shadow would reach its minimum of length
would be exactly twelve o'clock, and it would be enough to watch the
extremity of the shadow, so as to ascertain the instant when, after having
successively diminished, it began to lengthen. By inclining his stick to
the side opposite to the sun, Cyrus Harding made the shadow longer, and
consequently its modifications would be more easily ascertained. In fact,
the longer the needle of a dial is, the more easily can the movement of
its point be followed. The shadow of the stick was nothing but the needle
of a dial. The moment had come, and Cyrus Harding knelt on the sand, and
with little wooden pegs, which he stuck into the sand, he began to mark
the successive diminutions of the stick's shadow. His companions, bending
over him, watched the operation with extreme interest. The reporter held
his chronometer in his hand, ready to tell the hour which it marked when
the shadow would be at its shortest. Moreover, as Cyrus Harding was
working on the 16th of April, the day on which the true and the average
time are identical, the hour given by Gideon Spilett would be the true
hour then at Washington, which would simplify the calculation. Meanwhile
as the sun slowly advanced, the shadow slowly diminished, and when it
appeared to Cyrus Harding that it was beginning to increase, he asked,
"What o'clock is it?"

"One minute past five," replied Gideon Spilett directly. They had now only
to calculate the operation. Nothing could be easier. It could be seen that
there existed, in round numbers, a difference of five hours between the
meridian of Washington and that of Lincoln Island, that is to say, it was
midday in Lincoln Island when it was already five o'clock in the evening
in Washington. Now the sun, in its apparent movement round the earth,
traverses one degree in four minutes, or fifteen degrees an hour. Fifteen
degrees multiplied by five hours give seventy-five degrees.

Then, since Washington is 77deg 3' 11" as much as to say seventy-seven
degrees counted from the meridian of Greenwich which the Americans take
for their starting-point for longitudes concurrently with the English—it
followed that the island must be situated seventy-seven and seventy-five
degrees west of the meridian of Greenwich, that is to say, on the hundred
and fifty-second degree of west longitude.

Cyrus Harding announced this result to his companions, and taking into
consideration errors of observation, as he had done for the latitude, he
believed he could positively affirm that the position of Lincoln Island
was between the thirty-fifth and the thirty-seventh parallel, and between
the hundred and fiftieth and the hundred and fifty-fifth meridian to the
west of the meridian of Greenwich.

The possible fault which he attributed to errors in the observation was,
it may be seen, of five degrees on both sides, which, at sixty miles to a
degree, would give an error of three hundred miles in latitude and
longitude for the exact position.

But this error would not influence the determination which it was
necessary to take. It was very evident that Lincoln Island was at such a
distance from every country or island that it would be too hazardous to
attempt to reach one in a frail boat.

In fact, this calculation placed it at least twelve hundred miles from
Tahiti and the islands of the archipelago of the Pomoutous, more than
eighteen hundred miles from New Zealand, and more than four thousand five
hundred miles from the American coast!

And when Cyrus Harding consulted his memory, he could not remember in any
way that such an island occupied, in that part of the Pacific, the
situation assigned to Lincoln Island.

Chapter 15

The next day, the 17th of April, the sailor's first words were addressed
to Gideon Spilett.

"Well, sir," he asked, "what shall we do to-day?"

"What the captain pleases," replied the reporter.

Till then the engineer's companions had been brickmakers and potters, now
they were to become metallurgists.

The day before, after breakfast, they had explored as far as the point of
Mandible Cape, seven miles distant from the Chimneys. There, the long
series of downs ended, and the soil had a volcanic appearance. There were
no longer high cliffs as at Prospect Heights, but a strange and capricious
border which surrounded the narrow gulf between the two capes, formed of
mineral matter, thrown up by the volcano. Arrived at this point the
settlers retraced their steps, and at nightfall entered the Chimneys; but
they did not sleep before the question of knowing whether they could think
of leaving Lincoln Island or not was definitely settled.

The twelve hundred miles which separated the island from the Pomoutous
Island was a considerable distance. A boat could not cross it, especially
at the approach of the bad season. Pencroft had expressly declared this.
Now, to construct a simple boat even with the necessary tools, was a
difficult work, and the colonists not having tools they must begin by
making hammers, axes, adzes, saws, augers, planes, etc., which would take
some time. It was decided, therefore, that they would winter at Lincoln
Island, and that they would look for a more comfortable dwelling than the
Chimneys, in which to pass the winter months.

Before anything else could be done it was necessary to make the iron ore,
of which the engineer had observed some traces in the northwest part of
the island, fit for use by converting it either into iron or into steel.

Metals are not generally found in the ground in a pure state. For the most
part they are combined with oxygen or sulphur. Such was the case with the
two specimens which Cyrus Harding had brought back, one of magnetic iron,
not carbonated, the other a pyrite, also called sulphuret of iron. It was,
therefore the first, the oxide of iron, which they must reduce with coal,
that is to say, get rid of the oxygen, to obtain it in a pure state. This
reduction is made by subjecting the ore with coal to a high temperature,
either by the rapid and easy Catalan method, which has the advantage of
transforming the ore into iron in a single operation, or by the blast
furnace, which first smelts the ore, then changes it into iron, by
carrying away the three to four per cent. of coal, which is combined with
it.

Now Cyrus Harding wanted iron, and he wished to obtain it as soon as
possible. The ore which he had picked up was in itself very pure and rich.
It was the oxydulous iron, which is found in confused masses of a deep
gray color; it gives a black dust, crystallized in the form of the regular
octahedron. Native lodestones consist of this ore, and iron of the first
quality is made in Europe from that with which Sweden and Norway are so
abundantly supplied. Not far from this vein was the vein of coal already
made use of by the settlers. The ingredients for the manufacture being
close together would greatly facilitate the treatment of the ore. This is
the cause of the wealth of the mines in Great Britain, where the coal aids
the manufacture of the metal extracted from the same soil at the same time
as itself.

"Then, captain," said Pencroft, "we are going to work iron ore?"

"Yes, my friend," replied the engineer, "and for that—something
which will please you—we must begin by having a seal hunt on the
islet."

But the engineer had already left the Chimneys, and Pencroft prepared for
the seal hunt, without having received any other explanation.

Cyrus Harding, Herbert, Gideon Spilett, Neb, and the sailor were soon
collected on the shore, at a place where the channel left a ford passable
at low tide. The hunters could therefore traverse it without getting wet
higher than the knee.

Harding then put his foot on the islet for the first, and his companions
for the second time.

On their landing some hundreds of penguins looked fearlessly at them. The
hunters, armed with sticks, could have killed them easily, but they were
not guilty of such useless massacre, as it was important not to frighten
the seals, who were lying on the sand several cable lengths off. They also
respected certain innocent-looking birds, whose wings were reduced to the
state of stumps, spread out like fins, ornamented with feathers of a scaly
appearance. The settlers, therefore, prudently advanced towards the north
point, walking over ground riddled with little holes, which formed nests
for the sea-birds. Towards the extremity of the islet appeared great black
heads floating just above the water, having exactly the appearance of
rocks in motion.

These were the seals which were to be captured. It was necessary, however,
first to allow them to land, for with their close, short hair, and their
fusiform conformation, being excellent swimmers, it is difficult to catch
them in the sea, while on land their short, webbed feet prevent their
having more than a slow, waddling movement.

Pencroft knew the habits of these creatures, and he advised waiting till
they were stretched on the sand, when the sun, before long, would send
them to sleep. They must then manage to cut off their retreat and knock
them on the head.

The hunters, having concealed themselves behind the rocks, waited
silently.

An hour passed before the seals came to play on the sand. They could count
half a dozen. Pencroft and Herbert then went round the point of the islet,
so as to take them in the rear, and cut off their retreat. During this
time Cyrus Harding, Spilett, and Neb, crawling behind the rocks, glided
towards the future scene of combat.

All at once the tall figure of the sailor appeared. Pencroft shouted. The
engineer and his two companions threw themselves between the sea and the
seals. Two of the animals soon lay dead on the sand, but the rest regained
the sea in safety.

"Here are the seals required, captain!" said the sailor, advancing towards
the engineer.

"Capital," replied Harding. "We will make bellows of them!"

"Bellows!" cried Pencroft. "Well! these are lucky seals!"

It was, in fact, a blowing-machine, necessary for the treatment of the ore
that the engineer wished to manufacture with the skins of the amphibious
creatures. They were of a medium size, for their length did not exceed six
feet. They resembled a dog about the head.

As it was useless to burden themselves with the weight of both the
animals, Neb and Pencroft resolved to skin them on the spot, while Cyrus
Harding and the reporter continued to explore the islet.

The sailor and the Negro cleverly performed the operation, and three hours
afterwards Cyrus Harding had at his disposal two seals' skins, which he
intended to use in this state, without subjecting them to any tanning
process.

The settlers waited till the tide was again low, and crossing the channel
they entered the Chimneys.

The skins had then to be stretched on a frame of wood and sewn by means of
fibers so as to preserve the air without allowing too much to escape.
Cyrus Harding had nothing but the two steel blades from Top's collar, and
yet he was so clever, and his companions aided him with so much
intelligence, that three days afterwards the little colony's stock of
tools was augmented by a blowing-machine, destined to inject the air into
the midst of the ore when it should be subjected to heat—an
indispensable condition to the success of the operation.

On the morning of the 20th of April began the "metallic period," as the
reporter called it in his notes. The engineer had decided, as has been
said, to operate near the veins both of coal and ore. Now, according to
his observations, these veins were situated at the foot of the northeast
spurs of Mount Franklin, that is to say, a distance of six miles from
their home. It was impossible, therefore, to return every day to the
Chimneys, and it was agreed that the little colony should camp under a hut
of branches, so that the important operation could be followed night and
day.

This settled, they set out in the morning. Neb and Pencroft dragged the
bellows on a hurdle; also a quantity of vegetables and animals, which they
besides could renew on the way.

The road led through Jacamar Wood, which they traversed obliquely from
southeast to northwest, and in the thickest part. It was necessary to beat
a path, which would in the future form the most direct road to Prospect
Heights and Mount Franklin. The trees, belonging to the species already
discovered, were magnificent. Herbert found some new ones, among others
some which Pencroft called "sham leeks"; for, in spite of their size, they
were of the same liliaceous family as the onion, chive, shallot, or
asparagus. These trees produce ligneous roots which, when cooked, are
excellent; from them, by fermentation, a very agreeable liquor is made.
They therefore made a good store of the roots.

The journey through the wood was long; it lasted the whole day, and so
allowed plenty of time for examining the flora and fauna. Top, who took
special charge of the fauna, ran through the grass and brushwood, putting
up all sorts of game. Herbert and Gideon Spilett killed two kangaroos with
bows and arrows, and also an animal which strongly resembled both a
hedgehog and an ant-eater. It was like the first because it rolled itself
into a ball, and bristled with spines, and the second because it had sharp
claws, a long slender snout which terminated in a bird's beak, and an
extendible tongue, covered with little thorns which served to hold the
insects.

"And when it is in the pot," asked Pencroft naturally, "what will it be
like?"

"An excellent piece of beef," replied Herbert.

"We will not ask more from it," replied the sailor.

During this excursion they saw several wild boars, which however, did not
offer to attack the little band, and it appeared as if they would not meet
with any dangerous beasts; when, in a thick part of the wood, the reporter
thought he saw, some paces from him, among the lower branches of a tree,
an animal which he took for a bear, and which he very tranquilly began to
draw. Happily for Gideon Spilett, the animal in question did not belong to
the redoubtable family of the plantigrades. It was only a koala, better
known under the name of the sloth, being about the size of a large dog,
and having stiff hair of a dirty color, the paws armed with strong claws,
which enabled it to climb trees and feed on the leaves. Having identified
the animal, which they did not disturb, Gideon Spilett erased "bear" from
the title of his sketch, putting koala in its place, and the journey was
resumed.

At five o'clock in the evening, Cyrus Harding gave the signal to halt.
They were now outside the forest, at the beginning of the powerful spurs
which supported Mount Franklin towards the west. At a distance of some
hundred feet flowed the Red Creek, and consequently plenty of fresh water
was within their reach.

The camp was soon organized. In less than an hour, on the edge of the
forest, among the trees, a hut of branches interlaced with creepers, and
pasted over with clay, offered a tolerable shelter. Their geological
researches were put off till the next day. Supper was prepared, a good
fire blazed before the hut, the roast turned, and at eight o'clock, while
one of the settlers watched to keep up the fire, in case any wild beasts
should prowl in the neighborhood, the others slept soundly.

The next day, the 21st of April, Cyrus Harding accompanied by Herbert,
went to look for the soil of ancient formation, on which he had already
discovered a specimen of ore. They found the vein above ground, near the
source of the creek, at the foot of one of the northeastern spurs. This
ore, very rich in iron, enclosed in its fusible veinstone, was perfectly
suited to the mode of reduction which the engineer intended to employ;
that is, the Catalan method, but simplified, as it is used in Corsica. In
fact, the Catalan method, properly so called, requires the construction of
kilns and crucibles, in which the ore and the coal, placed in alternate
layers, are transformed and reduced, But Cyrus Harding intended to
economize these constructions, and wished simply to form, with the ore and
the coal, a cubic mass, to the center of which he would direct the wind
from his bellows. Doubtless, it was the proceeding employed by Tubalcain,
and the first metallurgists of the inhabited world. Now that which had
succeeded with the grandson of Adam, and which still yielded good results
in countries rich in ore and fuel, could not but succeed with the settlers
in Lincoln Island.

The coal, as well as the ore, was collected without trouble on the surface
of the ground. They first broke the ore into little pieces, and cleansed
them with the hand from the impurities which soiled their surface. Then
coal and ore were arranged in heaps and in successive layers, as the
charcoal-burner does with the wood which he wishes to carbonize. In this
way, under the influence of the air projected by the blowing-machine, the
coal would be transformed into carbonic acid, then into oxide of carbon,
its use being to reduce the oxide of iron, that is to say, to rid it of
the oxygen.

Thus the engineer proceeded. The bellows of sealskin, furnished at its
extremity with a nozzle of clay, which had been previously fabricated in
the pottery kiln, was established near the heap of ore. Using the
mechanism which consisted of a frame, cords of fiber and counterpoise, he
threw into the mass an abundance of air, which by raising the temperature
also concurred with the chemical transformation to produce in time pure
iron.

The operation was difficult. All the patience, all the ingenuity of the
settlers was needed; but at last it succeeded, and the result was a lump
of iron, reduced to a spongy state, which it was necessary to shingle and
fagot, that is to say, to forge so as to expel from it the liquefied
veinstone. These amateur smiths had, of course, no hammer; but they were
in no worse a situation than the first metallurgist, and therefore did
what, no doubt, he had to do.

A handle was fixed to the first lump, and was used as a hammer to forge
the second on a granite anvil, and thus they obtained a coarse but useful
metal. At length, after many trials and much fatigue, on the 25th of April
several bars of iron were forged, and transformed into tools, crowbars,
pincers, pickaxes, spades, etc., which Pencroft and Neb declared to be
real jewels. But the metal was not yet in its most serviceable state, that
is, of steel. Now steel is a combination of iron and coal, which is
extracted, either from the liquid ore, by taking from it the excess of
coal, or from the iron by adding to it the coal which was wanting. The
first, obtained by the decarburation of the metal, gives natural or
puddled steel; the second, produced by the carburation of the iron, gives
steel of cementation.

It was the last which Cyrus Harding intended to forge, as he possessed
iron in a pure state. He succeeded by heating the metal with powdered coal
in a crucible which had previously been manufactured from clay suitable
for the purpose.

He then worked this steel, which is malleable both when hot or cold, with
the hammer. Neb and Pencroft, cleverly directed, made hatchets, which,
heated red-hot, and plunged suddenly into cold water, acquired an
excellent temper.

Other instruments, of course roughly fashioned, were also manufactured;
blades for planes, axes, hatchets, pieces of steel to be transformed into
saws, chisels; then iron for spades, pickaxes, hammers, nails, etc. At
last, on the 5th of May, the metallic period ended, the smiths returned to
the Chimneys, and new work would soon authorize them to take a fresh
title.

Chapter 16

It was the 6th of May, a day which corresponds to the 6th of November in
the countries of the Northern Hemisphere. The sky had been obscured for
some days, and it was of importance to make preparations for the winter.
However, the temperature was not as yet much lower, and a centigrade
thermometer, transported to Lincoln Island, would still have marked an
average of ten to twelve degrees above zero. This was not surprising,
since Lincoln Island, probably situated between the thirty-fifth and
fortieth parallel, would be subject, in the Southern Hemisphere, to the
same climate as Sicily or Greece in the Northern Hemisphere. But as Greece
and Sicily have severe cold, producing snow and ice, so doubtless would
Lincoln Island in the severest part of the winter and it was advisable to
provide against it.

In any case if cold did not yet threaten them, the rainy season would
begin, and on this lonely island, exposed to all the fury of the elements,
in mid-ocean, bad weather would be frequent, and probably terrible. The
question of a more comfortable dwelling than the Chimneys must therefore
be seriously considered and promptly resolved on.

Pencroft, naturally, had some predilection for the retreat which he had
discovered, but he well understood that another must be found. The
Chimneys had been already visited by the sea, under circumstances which
are known, and it would not do to be exposed again to a similar accident.

"Besides," added Cyrus Harding, who this day was talking of these things
with his companions, "we have some precautions to take."

"Why? The island is not inhabited," said the reporter.

"That is probable," replied the engineer, "although we have not yet
explored the interior; but if no human beings are found, I fear that
dangerous animals may abound. It is necessary to guard against a possible
attack, so that we shall not be obliged to watch every night, or to keep
up a fire. And then, my friends, we must foresee everything. We are here
in a part of the Pacific often frequented by Malay pirates—"

"What!" said Herbert, "at such a distance from land?"

"Yes, my boy," replied the engineer. "These pirates are bold sailors as
well as formidable enemies, and we must take measures accordingly."

"Well," replied Pencroft, "we will fortify ourselves against savages with
two legs as well as against savages with four. But, captain, will it not
be best to explore every part of the island before undertaking anything
else?"

"That would be best," added Gideon Spilett.

"Who knows if we might not find on the opposite side one of the caverns
which we have searched for in vain here?"

"That is true," replied the engineer, "but you forget, my friends, that it
will be necessary to establish ourselves in the neighborhood of a
watercourse, and that, from the summit of Mount Franklin, we could not see
towards the west, either stream or river. Here, on the contrary, we are
placed between the Mercy and Lake Grant, an advantage which must not be
neglected. And, besides, this side, looking towards the east, is not
exposed as the other is to the trade-winds, which in this hemisphere blow
from the northwest."

"Then, captain," replied the sailor, "let us build a house on the edge of
the lake. Neither bricks nor tools are wanting now. After having been
brickmakers, potters, smelters, and smiths, we shall surely know how to be
masons!"

"Yes, my friend; but before coming to any decision we must consider the
matter thoroughly. A natural dwelling would spare us much work, and would
be a surer retreat, for it would be as well defended against enemies from
the interior as those from outside."

"That is true, Cyrus," replied the reporter, "but we have already examined
all that mass of granite, and there is not a hole, not a cranny!"

"No, not one!" added Pencroft. "Ah, if we were able to dig out a dwelling
in that cliff, at a good height, so as to be out of the reach of harm,
that would be capital! I can see that on the front which looks seaward,
five or six rooms—"

"With windows to light them!" said Herbert, laughing.

"And a staircase to climb up to them!" added Neb.

"You are laughing," cried the sailor, "and why? What is there impossible
in what I propose? Haven't we got pickaxes and spades? Won't Captain
Harding be able to make powder to blow up the mine? Isn't it true,
captain, that you will make powder the very day we want it?"

Cyrus Harding listened to the enthusiastic Pencroft developing his
fanciful projects. To attack this mass of granite, even by a mine, was
Herculean work, and it was really vexing that nature could not help them
at their need. But the engineer did not reply to the sailor except by
proposing to examine the cliff more attentively, from the mouth of the
river to the angle which terminated it on the north.

They went out, therefore, and the exploration was made with extreme care,
over an extent of nearly two miles. But in no place in the bare, straight
cliff, could any cavity be found. The nests of the rock pigeons which
fluttered at its summit were only, in reality, holes bored at the very
top, and on the irregular edge of the granite.

It was a provoking circumstance, and as to attacking this cliff, either
with pickaxe or with powder, so as to effect a sufficient excavation, it
was not to be thought of. It so happened that, on all this part of the
shore, Pencroft had discovered the only habitable shelter, that is to say,
the Chimneys, which now had to be abandoned.

The exploration ended, the colonists found themselves at the north angle
of the cliff, where it terminated in long slopes which died away on the
shore. From this place, to its extreme limit in the west, it only formed a
sort of declivity, a thick mass of stones, earth, and sand, bound together
by plants, bushes, and grass inclined at an angle of only forty-five
degrees. Clumps of trees grew on these slopes, which were also carpeted
with thick grass. But the vegetation did not extend far, and a long, sandy
plain, which began at the foot of these slopes, reached to the beach.

Cyrus Harding thought, not without reason, that the overplus of the lake
must overflow on this side. The excess of water furnished by the Red Creek
must also escape by some channel or other. Now the engineer had not yet
found this channel on any part of the shore already explored, that is to
say, from the mouth of the stream on the west of Prospect Heights.

The engineer now proposed to his companions to climb the slope, and to
return to the Chimneys by the heights, while exploring the northern and
eastern shores of the lake. The proposal was accepted, and in a few
minutes Herbert and Neb were on the upper plateau. Cyrus Harding, Gideon
Spilett, and Pencroft followed with more sedate steps.

The beautiful sheet of water glittered through the trees under the rays of
the sun. In this direction the country was charming. The eye feasted on
the groups of trees. Some old trunks, bent with age, showed black against
the verdant grass which covered the ground. Crowds of brilliant cockatoos
screamed among the branches, moving prisms, hopping from one bough to
another.

The settlers instead of going directly to the north bank of the lake, made
a circuit round the edge of the plateau, so as to join the mouth of the
creek on its left bank. It was a detour of more than a mile and a half.
Walking was easy, for the trees widely spread, left a considerable space
between them. The fertile zone evidently stopped at this point, and
vegetation would be less vigorous in the part between the course of the
Creek and the Mercy.

Cyrus Harding and his companions walked over this new ground with great
care. Bows, arrows, and sticks with sharp iron points were their only
weapons. However, no wild beast showed itself, and it was probable that
these animals frequented rather the thick forests in the south; but the
settlers had the disagreeable surprise of seeing Top stop before a snake
of great size, measuring from fourteen to fifteen feet in length. Neb
killed it by a blow from his stick. Cyrus Harding examined the reptile,
and declared it not venomous, for it belonged to that species of diamond
serpents which the natives of New South Wales rear. But it was possible
that others existed whose bite was mortal such as the deaf vipers with
forked tails, which rise up under the feet, or those winged snakes,
furnished with two ears, which enable them to proceed with great rapidity.
Top, the first moment of surprise over, began a reptile chase with such
eagerness, that they feared for his safety. His master called him back
directly.

The mouth of the Red Creek, at the place where it entered into the lake,
was soon reached. The explorers recognized on the opposite shore the point
which they had visited on their descent from Mount Franklin. Cyrus Harding
ascertained that the flow of water into it from the creek was
considerable. Nature must therefore have provided some place for the
escape of the overplus. This doubtless formed a fall, which, if it could
be discovered, would be of great use.

The colonists, walking apart, but not straying far from each other, began
to skirt the edge of the lake, which was very steep. The water appeared to
be full of fish, and Pencroft resolved to make some fishing-rods, so as to
try and catch some.

The northeast point was first to be doubled. It might have been supposed
that the discharge of water was at this place, for the extremity of the
lake was almost on a level with the edge of the plateau. But no signs of
this were discovered, and the colonists continued to explore the bank,
which, after a slight bend, descended parallel to the shore.

On this side the banks were less woody, but clumps of trees, here and
there, added to the picturesqueness of the country. Lake Grant was viewed
from thence in all its extent, and no breath disturbed the surface of its
waters. Top, in beating the bushes, put up flocks of birds of different
kinds, which Gideon Spilett and Herbert saluted with arrows. One was hit
by the lad, and fell into some marshy grass. Top rushed forward, and
brought a beautiful swimming bird, of a slate color, short beak, very
developed frontal plate, and wings edged with white. It was a "coot," the
size of a large partridge, belonging to the group of macrodactyls which
form the transition between the order of wading birds and that of
palmipeds. Sorry game, in truth, and its flavor is far from pleasant. But
Top was not so particular in these things as his masters, and it was
agreed that the coot should be for his supper.

The settlers were now following the eastern bank of the lake, and they
would not be long in reaching the part which they already knew. The
engineer was much surprised at not seeing any indication of the discharge
of water. The reporter and the sailor talked with him, and he could not
conceal his astonishment.

At this moment Top, who had been very quiet till then, gave signs of
agitation. The intelligent animal went backwards and forwards on the
shore, stopped suddenly, and looked at the water, one paw raised, as if he
was pointing at some invisible game; then he barked furiously, and was
suddenly silent.

Neither Cyrus Harding nor his companions had at first paid any attention
to Top's behavior; but the dog's barking soon became so frequent that the
engineer noticed it.

"What is there, Top?" he asked.

The dog bounded towards his master, seeming to be very uneasy, and then
rushed again towards the bank. Then, all at once, he plunged into the
lake.

"Here, Top!" cried Cyrus Harding, who did not like his dog to venture into
the treacherous water.

"What's happening down there?" asked Pencroft, examining the surface of
the lake.

"Top smells some amphibious creature," replied Herbert.

"An alligator, perhaps," said the reporter.

"I do not think so," replied Harding. "Alligators are only met with in
regions less elevated in latitude."

Meanwhile Top had returned at his master's call, and had regained the
shore: but he could not stay quiet; he plunged in among the tall grass,
and guided by instinct, he appeared to follow some invisible being which
was slipping along under the surface of the water. However the water was
calm; not a ripple disturbed its surface. Several times the settlers
stopped on the bank, and observed it attentively. Nothing appeared. There
was some mystery there.

The engineer was puzzled.

"Let us pursue this exploration to the end," said he.

Half an hour after they had all arrived at the southeast angle of the
lake, on Prospect Heights. At this point the examination of the banks of
the lake was considered finished, and yet the engineer had not been able
to discover how and where the waters were discharged. "There is no doubt
this overflow exists," he repeated, "and since it is not visible it must
go through the granite cliff at the west!"

"Considerable importance," replied the engineer; "for if it flows through
the cliff there is probably some cavity, which it would be easy to render
habitable after turning away the water."

"But is it not possible, captain, that the water flows away at the bottom
of the lake," said Herbert, "and that it reaches the sea by some
subterranean passage?"

"That might be," replied the engineer, "and should it be so we shall be
obliged to build our house ourselves, since nature has not done it for
us."

The colonists were about to begin to traverse the plateau to return to the
Chimneys, when Top gave new signs of agitation. He barked with fury, and
before his master could restrain him, he had plunged a second time into
the lake.

All ran towards the bank. The dog was already more than twenty feet off,
and Cyrus was calling him back, when an enormous head emerged from the
water, which did not appear to be deep in that place.

Herbert recognized directly the species of amphibian to which the tapering
head, with large eyes, and adorned with long silky mustaches, belonged.

"A lamantin!" he cried.

It was not a lamantin, but one of that species of the order of cetaceans,
which bear the name of the "dugong," for its nostrils were open at the
upper part of its snout. The enormous animal rushed on the dog, who tried
to escape by returning towards the shore. His master could do nothing to
save him, and before Gideon Spilett or Herbert thought of bending their
bows, Top, seized by the dugong, had disappeared beneath the water.

Neb, his iron-tipped spear in his hand, wished to go to Top's help, and
attack the dangerous animal in its own element.

"No, Neb," said the engineer, restraining his courageous servant.

Meanwhile, a struggle was going on beneath the water, an inexplicable
struggle, for in his situation Top could not possibly resist; and judging
by the bubbling of the surface it must be also a terrible struggle, and
could not but terminate in the death of the dog! But suddenly, in the
middle of a foaming circle, Top reappeared. Thrown in the air by some
unknown power, he rose ten feet above the surface of the lake, fell again
into the midst of the agitated waters, and then soon gained the shore,
without any severe wounds, miraculously saved.

Cyrus Harding and his companions could not understand it. What was not
less inexplicable was that the struggle still appeared to be going on.
Doubtless, the dugong, attacked by some powerful animal, after having
released the dog, was fighting on its own account. But it did not last
long. The water became red with blood, and the body of the dugong,
emerging from the sheet of scarlet which spread around, soon stranded on a
little beach at the south angle of the lake. The colonists ran towards it.
The dugong was dead. It was an enormous animal, fifteen or sixteen feet
long, and must have weighed from three to four thousand pounds. At its
neck was a wound, which appeared to have been produced by a sharp blade.

What could the amphibious creature have been, who, by this terrible blow
had destroyed the formidable dugong? No one could tell, and much
interested in this incident, Harding and his companions returned to the
Chimneys.

Chapter 17

The next day, the 7th of May, Harding and Gideon Spilett, leaving Neb to
prepare breakfast, climbed Prospect Heights, while Herbert and Pencroft
ascended by the river, to renew their store of wood.

The engineer and the reporter soon reached the little beach on which the
dugong had been stranded. Already flocks of birds had attacked the mass of
flesh, and had to be driven away with stones, for Cyrus wished to keep the
fat for the use of the colony. As to the animal's flesh it would furnish
excellent food, for in the islands of the Malay Archipelago and elsewhere,
it is especially reserved for the table of the native princes. But that
was Neb's affair.

At this moment Cyrus Harding had other thoughts. He was much interested in
the incident of the day before. He wished to penetrate the mystery of that
submarine combat, and to ascertain what monster could have given the
dugong so strange a wound. He remained at the edge of the lake, looking,
observing; but nothing appeared under the tranquil waters, which sparkled
in the first rays of the rising sun.

At the beach, on which lay the body of the dugong, the water was tolerably
shallow, but from this point the bottom of the lake sloped gradually, and
it was probable that the depth was considerable in the center. The lake
might be considered as a large center basin, which was filled by the water
from the Red Creek.

"Well, Cyrus," said the reporter, "there seems to be nothing suspicious in
this water."

"No, my dear Spilett," replied the engineer, "and I really do not know how
to account for the incident of yesterday."

"I acknowledge," returned Spilett, "that the wound given this creature is,
at least, very strange, and I cannot explain either how Top was so
vigorously cast up out of the water. One could have thought that a
powerful arm hurled him up, and that the same arm with a dagger killed the
dugong!"

"Yes," replied the engineer, who had become thoughtful; "there is
something there that I cannot understand. But do you better understand
either, my dear Spilett, in what way I was saved myself—how I was
drawn from the waves, and carried to the downs? No! Is it not true? Now, I
feel sure that there is some mystery there, which, doubtless, we shall
discover some day. Let us observe, but do not dwell on these singular
incidents before our companions. Let us keep our remarks to ourselves, and
continue our work."

It will be remembered that the engineer had not as yet been able to
discover the place where the surplus water escaped, but he knew it must
exist somewhere. He was much surprised to see a strong current at this
place. By throwing in some bits of wood he found that it set towards the
southern angle. He followed the current, and arrived at the south point of
the lake.

There was there a sort of depression in the water, as if it was suddenly
lost in some fissure in the ground.

Harding listened; placing his ear to the level of the lake, he very
distinctly heard the noise of a subterranean fall.

"There," said he, rising, "is the discharge of the water; there,
doubtless, by a passage in the granite cliff, it joins the sea, through
cavities which we can use to our profit. Well, I can find it!"

The engineer cut a long branch, stripped it of its leaves, and plunging it
into the angle between the two banks, he found that there was a large hole
one foot only beneath the surface of the water. This hole was the opening
so long looked for in vain, and the force of the current was such that the
branch was torn from the engineer's hands and disappeared.

"There is no doubt about it now," repeated Harding. "There is the outlet,
and I will lay it open to view!"

"How?" asked Gideon Spilett.

"By lowering the level of the water of the lake three feet."

"And how will you lower the level?"

"By opening another outlet larger than this."

"At what place, Cyrus?"

"At the part of the bank nearest the coast."

"But it is a mass of granite!" observed Spilett.

"Well," replied Cyrus Harding, "I will blow up the granite, and the water
escaping, will subside, so as to lay bare this opening—"

"And make a waterfall, by falling on to the beach," added the reporter.

"A fall that we shall make use of!" replied Cyrus. "Come, come!"

The engineer hurried away his companion, whose confidence in Harding was
such that he did not doubt the enterprise would succeed. And yet, how was
this granite wall to be opened without powder, and with imperfect
instruments? Was not this work upon which the engineer was so bent above
their strength?

When Harding and the reporter entered the Chimneys, they found Herbert and
Pencroft unloading their raft of wood.

"The woodmen have just finished, captain." said the sailor, laughing, "and
when you want masons—"

"Masons,—no, but chemists," replied the engineer.

"Yes," added the reporter, "we are going to blow up the island—"

"Blow up the island?" cried Pencroft.

"Part of it, at least," replied Spilett.

"Listen to me, my friends," said the engineer. And he made known to them
the result of his observations.

According to him, a cavity, more or less considerable, must exist in the
mass of granite which supported Prospect Heights, and he intended to
penetrate into it. To do this, the opening through which the water rushed
must first be cleared, and the level lowered by making a larger outlet.
Therefore an explosive substance must be manufactured, which would make a
deep trench in some other part of the shore. This was what Harding was
going to attempt with the minerals which nature placed at his disposal.

It is useless to say with what enthusiasm all, especially Pencroft,
received this project. To employ great means, open the granite, create a
cascade, that suited the sailor. And he would just as soon be a chemist as
a mason or bootmaker, since the engineer wanted chemicals. He would be all
that they liked, "even a professor of dancing and deportment," said he to
Neb, if that was ever necessary.

Neb and Pencroft were first of all told to extract the grease from the
dugong, and to keep the flesh, which was destined for food. Such perfect
confidence had they in the engineer, that they set out directly, without
even asking a question. A few minutes after them, Cyrus Harding, Herbert,
and Gideon Spilett, dragging the hurdle, went towards the vein of coals,
where those shistose pyrites abound which are met with in the most recent
transition soil, and of which Harding had already found a specimen. All
the day being employed in carrying a quantity of these stones to the
Chimneys, by evening they had several tons.

The next day, the 8th of May, the engineer began his manipulations. These
shistose pyrites being composed principally of coal, flint, alumina, and
sulphuret of iron—the latter in excess—it was necessary to
separate the sulphuret of iron, and transform it into sulphate as rapidly
as possible. The sulphate obtained, the sulphuric acid could then be
extracted.

This was the object to be attained. Sulphuric acid is one of the agents
the most frequently employed, and the manufacturing importance of a nation
can be measured by the consumption which is made of it. This acid would
later be of great use to the settlers, in the manufacturing of candles,
tanning skins, etc., but this time the engineer reserved it for another
use.

Cyrus Harding chose, behind the Chimneys, a site where the ground was
perfectly level. On this ground he placed a layer of branches and chopped
wood, on which were piled some pieces of shistose pyrites, buttressed one
against the other, the whole being covered with a thin layer of pyrites,
previously reduced to the size of a nut.

This done, they set fire to the wood, the heat was communicated to the
shist, which soon kindled, since it contains coal and sulphur. Then new
layers of bruised pyrites were arranged so as to form an immense heap, the
exterior of which was covered with earth and grass, several air-holes
being left, as if it was a stack of wood which was to be carbonized to
make charcoal.

They then left the transformation to complete itself, and it would not
take less than ten or twelve days for the sulphuret of iron to be changed
to sulphate of iron and the alumina into sulphate of alumina, two equally
soluble substances, the others, flint, burnt coal, and cinders, not being
so.

While this chemical work was going on, Cyrus Harding proceeded with other
operations, which were pursued with more than zeal,—it was
eagerness.

Neb and Pencroft had taken away the fat from the dugong, and placed it in
large earthen pots. It was then necessary to separate the glycerine from
the fat by saponifying it. Now, to obtain this result, it had to be
treated either with soda or lime. In fact, one or other of these
substances, after having attacked the fat, would form a soap by separating
the glycerine, and it was just this glycerine which the engineer wished to
obtain. There was no want of lime, only treatment by lime would give
calcareous soap, insoluble, and consequently useless, while treatment by
soda would furnish, on the contrary, a soluble soap, which could be put to
domestic use. Now, a practical man, like Cyrus Harding, would rather try
to obtain soda. Was this difficult? No; for marine plants abounded on the
shore, glass-wort, ficoides, and all those fucaceae which form wrack. A
large quantity of these plants was collected, first dried, then burnt in
holes in the open air. The combustion of these plants was kept up for
several days, and the result was a compact gray mass, which has been long
known under the name of "natural soda."

This obtained, the engineer treated the fat with soda, which gave both a
soluble soap and that neutral substance, glycerine.

But this was not all. Cyrus Harding still needed, in view of his future
preparation, another substance, nitrate of potash, which is better known
under the name of salt niter, or of saltpeter.

Cyrus Harding could have manufactured this substance by treating the
carbonate of potash, which would be easily extracted from the cinders of
the vegetables, by azotic acid. But this acid was wanting, and he would
have been in some difficulty, if nature had not happily furnished the
saltpeter, without giving them any other trouble than that of picking it
up. Herbert found a vein of it at the foot of Mount Franklin, and they had
nothing to do but purify this salt.

These different works lasted a week. They were finished before the
transformation of the sulphuret into sulphate of iron had been
accomplished. During the following days the settlers had time to construct
a furnace of bricks of a particular arrangement, to serve for the
distillation of the sulphate or iron when it had been obtained. All this
was finished about the 18th of May, nearly at the time when the chemical
transformation terminated. Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Neb, and Pencroft,
skillfully directed by the engineer, had become most clever workmen.
Before all masters, necessity is the one most listened to, and who teaches
the best.

When the heap of pyrites had been entirely reduced by fire, the result of
the operation, consisting of sulphate of iron, sulphate of alumina, flint,
remains of coal, and cinders was placed in a basinful of water. They
stirred this mixture, let it settle, then decanted it, and obtained a
clear liquid containing in solution sulphate of iron and sulphate of
alumina, the other matters remaining solid, since they are insoluble.
Lastly, this liquid being partly evaporated, crystals of sulphate of iron
were deposited, and the not evaporated liquid, which contained the
sulphate of alumina, was thrown away.

Cyrus Harding had now at his disposal a large quantity of these sulphate
of iron crystals, from which the sulphuric acid had to be extracted. The
making of sulphuric acid is a very expensive manufacture. Considerable
works are necessary—a special set of tools, an apparatus of platina,
leaden chambers, unassailable by the acid, and in which the transformation
is performed, etc. The engineer had none of these at his disposal, but he
knew that, in Bohemia especially, sulphuric acid is manufactured by very
simple means, which have also the advantage of producing it to a superior
degree of concentration. It is thus that the acid known under the name of
Nordhausen acid is made.

To obtain sulphuric acid, Cyrus Harding had only one operation to make, to
calcine the sulphate of iron crystals in a closed vase, so that the
sulphuric acid should distil in vapor, which vapor, by condensation, would
produce the acid.

The crystals were placed in pots, and the heat from the furnace would
distil the sulphuric acid. The operation was successfully completed, and
on the 20th of May, twelve days after commencing it, the engineer was the
possessor of the agent which later he hoped to use in so many different
ways.

Now, why did he wish for this agent? Simply to produce azotic acid; and
that was easy, since saltpeter, attacked by sulphuric acid, gives azotic,
or nitric, acid by distillation.

But, after all, how was he going to employ this azotic acid? His
companions were still ignorant of this, for he had not informed them of
the result at which he aimed.

However, the engineer had nearly accomplished his purpose, and by a last
operation he would procure the substance which had given so much trouble.

Taking some azotic acid, he mixed it with glycerine, which had been
previously concentrated by evaporation, subjected to the water-bath, and
he obtained, without even employing a refrigerant mixture, several pints
of an oily yellow mixture.

This last operation Cyrus Harding had made alone, in a retired place, at a
distance from the Chimneys, for he feared the danger of an explosion, and
when he showed a bottle of this liquid to his friends, he contented
himself with saying,—

"Here is nitro-glycerine!"

It was really this terrible production, of which the explosive power is
perhaps tenfold that of ordinary powder, and which has already caused so
many accidents. However, since a way has been found to transform it into
dynamite, that is to say, to mix with it some solid substance, clay or
sugar, porous enough to hold it, the dangerous liquid has been used with
some security. But dynamite was not yet known at the time when the
settlers worked on Lincoln Island.

"And is it that liquid that is going to blow up our rocks?" said Pencroft
incredulously.

"Yes, my friend," replied the engineer, "and this nitro-glycerine will
produce so much the more effect, as the granite is extremely hard, and
will oppose a greater resistance to the explosion."

"And when shall we see this, captain?"

"To-morrow, as soon as we have dug a hole for the mine, replied the
engineer."

The next day, the 21st of May, at daybreak, the miners went to the point
which formed the eastern shore of Lake Grant, and was only five hundred
feet from the coast. At this place, the plateau inclined downwards from
the waters, which were only restrained by their granite case. Therefore,
if this case was broken, the water would escape by the opening and form a
stream, which, flowing over the inclined surface of the plateau, would
rush on to the beach. Consequently, the level of the lake would be greatly
lowered, and the opening where the water escaped would be exposed, which
was their final aim.

Under the engineer's directions, Pencroft, armed with a pickaxe, which he
handled skillfully and vigorously, attacked the granite. The hole was made
on the point of the shore, slanting, so that it should meet a much lower
level than that of the water of the lake. In this way the explosive force,
by scattering the rock, would open a large place for the water to rush
out.

The work took some time, for the engineer, wishing to produce a great
effect, intended to devote not less than seven quarts of nitro-glycerine
to the operation. But Pencroft, relieved by Neb, did so well, that towards
four o'clock in the evening, the mine was finished.

Now the question of setting fire to the explosive substance was raised.
Generally, nitro-glycerine is ignited by caps of fulminate, which in
bursting cause the explosion. A shock is therefore needed to produce the
explosion, for, simply lighted, this substance would burn without
exploding.

Cyrus Harding could certainly have fabricated a percussion cap. In default
of fulminate, he could easily obtain a substance similar to guncotton,
since he had azotic acid at his disposal. This substance, pressed in a
cartridge, and introduced among the nitro-glycerine, would burst by means
of a fuse, and cause the explosion.

But Cyrus Harding knew that nitro-glycerine would explode by a shock. He
resolved to employ this means, and try another way, if this did not
succeed.

In fact, the blow of a hammer on a few drops of nitro-glycerine, spread
out on a hard surface, was enough to create an explosion. But the operator
could not be there to give the blow, without becoming a victim to the
operation. Harding, therefore, thought of suspending a mass of iron,
weighing several pounds, by means of a fiber, to an upright just above the
mine. Another long fiber, previously impregnated with sulphur, was
attached to the middle of the first, by one end, while the other lay on
the ground several feet distant from the mine. The second fiber being set
on fire, it would burn till it reached the first. This catching fire in
its turn, would break, and the mass of iron would fall on the
nitro-glycerine. This apparatus being then arranged, the engineer, after
having sent his companions to a distance, filled the hole, so that the
nitro-glycerine was on a level with the opening; then he threw a few drops
of it on the surface of the rock, above which the mass of iron was already
suspended.

This done, Harding lit the end of the sulphured fiber, and leaving the
place, he returned with his companions to the Chimneys.

The fiber was intended to burn five and twenty minutes, and, in fact, five
and twenty minutes afterwards a most tremendous explosion was heard. The
island appeared to tremble to its very foundation. Stones were projected
in the air as if by the eruption of a volcano. The shock produced by the
displacing of the air was such, that the rocks of the Chimneys shook. The
settlers, although they were more than two miles from the mine, were
thrown on the ground.

They rose, climbed the plateau, and ran towards the place where the bank
of the lake must have been shattered by the explosion.

A cheer escaped them! A large rent was seen in the granite! A rapid stream
of water rushed foaming across the plateau and dashed down a height of
three hundred feet on to the beach!

Chapter 18

Cyrus Harding's project had succeeded, but, according to his usual habit
he showed no satisfaction; with closed lips and a fixed look, he remained
motionless. Herbert was in ecstasies, Neb bounded with joy, Pencroft
nodded his great head, murmuring these words,—

"Come, our engineer gets on capitally!"

The nitro-glycerine had indeed acted powerfully. The opening which it had
made was so large that the volume of water which escaped through this new
outlet was at least treble that which before passed through the old one.
The result was, that a short time after the operation the level of the
lake would be lowered two feet, or more.

The settlers went to the Chimneys to take some pickaxes, iron-tipped
spears, string made of fibers, flint and steel; they then returned to the
plateau, Top accompanying them.

On the way the sailor could not help saying to the engineer,—

"Don't you think, captain, that by means of that charming liquid you have
made, one could blow up the whole of our island?"

"Without any doubt, the island, continents, and the world itself," replied
the engineer. "It is only a question of quantity."

"Then could you not use this nitro-glycerine for loading firearms?" asked
the sailor.

"No, Pencroft; for it is too explosive a substance. But it would be easy
to make some guncotton, or even ordinary powder, as we have azotic acid,
saltpeter, sulphur, and coal. Unhappily, it is the guns which we have not
got.

"Oh, captain," replied the sailor, "with a little determination—"

Pencroft had erased the word "impossible" from the dictionary of Lincoln
Island.

The settlers, having arrived at Prospect Heights, went immediately towards
that point of the lake near which was the old opening now uncovered. This
outlet had now become practicable, since the water no longer rushed
through it, and it would doubtless be easy to explore the interior.

In a few minutes the settlers had reached the lower point of the lake, and
a glance showed them that the object had been attained.

In fact, in the side of the lake, and now above the surface of the water,
appeared the long-looked-for opening. A narrow ridge, left bare by the
retreat of the water, allowed them to approach it. This orifice was nearly
twenty feet in width, but scarcely two in height. It was like the mouth of
a drain at the edge of the pavement, and therefore did not offer an easy
passage to the settlers; but Neb and Pencroft, taking their pickaxes, soon
made it of a suitable height.

The engineer then approached, and found that the sides of the opening, in
its upper part at least, had not a slope of more than from thirty to
thirty-five degrees. It was therefore practicable, and, provided that the
declivity did not increase, it would be easy to descend even to the level
of the sea. If then, as was probable, some vast cavity existed in the
interior of the granite, it might, perhaps, be of great use.

"Well, captain, what are we stopping for?" asked the sailor, impatient to
enter the narrow passage. "You see Top has got before us!"

"Very well," replied the engineer. "But we must see our way. Neb, go and
cut some resinous branches."

Neb and Herbert ran to the edge of the lake, shaded with pines and other
green trees, and soon returned with some branches, which they made into
torches. The torches were lighted with flint and steel, and Cyrus Harding
leading, the settlers ventured into the dark passage, which the overplus
of the lake had formerly filled.

Contrary to what might have been supposed, the diameter of the passage
increased as the explorers proceeded, so that they very soon were able to
stand upright. The granite, worn by the water for an infinite time, was
very slippery, and falls were to be dreaded. But the settlers were all
attached to each other by a cord, as is frequently done in ascending
mountains. Happily some projections of the granite, forming regular steps,
made the descent less perilous. Drops, still hanging from the rocks, shone
here and there under the light of the torches, and the explorers guessed
that the sides were clothed with innumerable stalactites. The engineer
examined this black granite. There was not a stratum, not a break in it.
The mass was compact, and of an extremely close grain. The passage dated,
then, from the very origin of the island. It was not the water which
little by little had hollowed it. Pluto and not Neptune had bored it with
his own hand, and on the wall traces of an eruptive work could be
distinguished, which all the washing of the water had not been able
totally to efface.

The settlers descended very slowly. They could not but feel a certain awe,
in this venturing into these unknown depths, for the first time visited by
human beings. They did not speak, but they thought; and the thought came
to more than one, that some polypus or other gigantic cephalopod might
inhabit the interior cavities, which were in communication with the sea.
However, Top kept at the head of the little band, and they could rely on
the sagacity of the dog, who would not fail to give the alarm if there was
any need for it.

After having descended about a hundred feet, following a winding road,
Harding who was walking on before, stopped, and his companions came up
with him. The place where they had halted was wider, so as to form a
cavern of moderate dimensions. Drops of water fell from the vault, but
that did not prove that they oozed through the rock. They were simply the
last traces left by the torrent which had so long thundered through this
cavity, and the air there was pure though slightly damp, but producing no
mephitic exhalation.

"Well, my dear Cyrus," said Gideon Spilett, "here is a very secure
retreat, well hid in the depths of the rock, but it is, however,
uninhabitable."

"Why uninhabitable?" asked the sailor.

"Because it is too small and too dark."

"Couldn't we enlarge it, hollow it out, make openings to let in light and
air?" replied Pencroft, who now thought nothing impossible.

"Let us go on with our exploration," said Cyrus Harding. "Perhaps lower
down, nature will have spared us this labor."

"We have only gone a third of the way," observed Herbert.

"Nearly a third," replied Harding, "for we have descended a hundred feet
from the opening, and it is not impossible that a hundred feet farther
down—"

"Where is Top?" asked Neb, interrupting his master.

They searched the cavern, but the dog was not there.

"Most likely he has gone on," said Pencroft.

"Let us join him," replied Harding.

The descent was continued. The engineer carefully observed all the
deviations of the passage, and notwithstanding so many detours, he could
easily have given an account of its general direction, which went towards
the sea.

The settlers had gone some fifty feet farther, when their attention was
attracted by distant sounds which came up from the depths. They stopped
and listened. These sounds, carried through the passage as through an
acoustic tube, came clearly to the ear.

"It is becoming more and more interesting," murmured Gideon Spilett in the
sailor's ear, who nodded. Harding and his companions rushed to the help of
their dog. Top's barking became more and more perceptible, and it seemed
strangely fierce. Was he engaged in a struggle with some animal whose
retreat he had disturbed? Without thinking of the danger to which they
might be exposed, the explorers were now impelled by an irresistible
curiosity, and in a few minutes, sixteen feet lower they rejoined Top.

There the passage ended in a vast and magnificent cavern.

Top was running backwards and forwards, barking furiously. Pencroft and
Neb, waving their torches, threw the light into every crevice; and at the
same time, Harding, Gideon Spilett, and Herbert, their spears raised, were
ready for any emergency which might arise. The enormous cavern was empty.
The settlers explored it in every direction. There was nothing there, not
an animal, not a human being; and yet Top continued to bark. Neither
caresses nor threats could make him be silent.

"There must be a place somewhere, by which the waters of the lake reached
the sea," said the engineer.

"Of course," replied Pencroft, "and we must take care not to tumble into a
hole."

"Go, Top, go!" cried Harding.

The dog, excited by his master's words, ran towards the extremity of the
cavern, and there redoubled his barking.

They followed him, and by the light of the torches, perceived the mouth of
a regular well in the granite. It was by this that the water escaped; and
this time it was not an oblique and practicable passage, but a
perpendicular well, into which it was impossible to venture.

The torches were held over the opening: nothing could be seen. Harding
took a lighted branch, and threw it into the abyss. The blazing resin,
whose illuminating power increased still more by the rapidity of its fall,
lighted up the interior of the well, but yet nothing appeared. The flame
then went out with a slight hiss, which showed that it had reached the
water, that is to say, the level of the sea.

The engineer, calculating the time employed in its fall, was able to
calculate the depth of the well, which was found to be about ninety feet.

The floor of the cavern must thus be situated ninety feet above the level
of the sea.

"Here is our dwelling," said Cyrus Harding.

"But it was occupied by some creature," replied Gideon Spilett, whose
curiosity was not yet satisfied.

"Well, the creature, amphibious or otherwise, has made off through this
opening," replied the engineer, "and has left the place for us."

"Never mind," added the sailor, "I should like very much to be Top just
for a quarter of an hour, for he doesn't bark for nothing!"

Cyrus Harding looked at his dog, and those of his companions who were near
him might have heard him murmur these words,—

"Yes, I believe that Top knows more than we do about a great many things."

However, the wishes of the settlers were for the most part satisfied.
Chance, aided by the marvelous sagacity of their leader, had done them
great service. They had now at their disposal a vast cavern, the size of
which could not be properly calculated by the feeble light of their
torches, but it would certainly be easy to divide it into rooms, by means
of brick partitions, or to use it, if not as a house, at least as a
spacious apartment. The water which had left it could not return. The
place was free.

Two difficulties remained; firstly, the possibility of lighting this
excavation in the midst of solid rock; secondly, the necessity of
rendering the means of access more easy. It was useless to think of
lighting it from above, because of the enormous thickness of the granite
which composed the ceiling; but perhaps the outer wall next the sea might
be pierced. Cyrus Harding, during the descent, had roughly calculated its
obliqueness, and consequently the length of the passage, and was therefore
led to believe that the outer wall could not be very thick. If light was
thus obtained, so would a means of access, for it would be as easy to
pierce a door as windows, and to establish an exterior ladder.

Harding made known his ideas to his companions.

"Then, captain, let us set to work!" replied Pencroft. "I have my pickaxe,
and I shall soon make my way through this wall. Where shall I strike?"

"Here," replied the engineer, showing the sturdy sailor a considerable
recess in the side, which would much diminish the thickness.

Pencroft attacked the granite, and for half an hour, by the light of the
torches, he made the splinters fly around him. Neb relieved him, then
Spilett took Neb's place.

This work had lasted two hours, and they began to fear that at this spot
the wall would not yield to the pickaxe, when at a last blow given by
Gideon Spilett, the instrument, passing through the rock, fell outside.

"Hurrah! hurrah!" cried Pencroft.

The wall only measured there three feet in thickness.

Harding applied his eye to the aperture, which overlooked the ground from
a height of eighty feet. Before him was extended the sea-coast, the islet,
and beyond the open sea.

Floods of light entered by this hole, inundating the splendid cavern and
producing a magic effect! On its left side it did not measure more than
thirty feet in height and breadth, but on the right it was enormous, and
its vaulted roof rose to a height of more than eighty feet.

In some places granite pillars, irregularly disposed, supported the
vaulted roof, as those in the nave of a cathedral, here forming lateral
piers, there elliptical arches, adorned with pointed moldings, losing
themselves in dark bays, amid the fantastic arches of which glimpses could
be caught in the shade, covered with a profusion of projections formed
like so many pendants. This cavern was a picturesque mixture of all the
styles of Byzantine, Roman, or Gothic architecture ever produced by the
hand of man. And yet this was only the work of nature. She alone had
hollowed this fairy Alhambra in a mass of granite.

The settlers were overwhelmed with admiration. Where they had only
expected to find a narrow cavity, they had found a sort of marvelous
palace, and Neb had taken off his hat, as if he had been transported into
a temple!

Cries of admiration issued from every mouth. Hurrahs resounded, and the
echo was repeated again and again till it died away in the dark naves.

"Ah, my friends!" exclaimed Cyrus Harding, "when we have lighted the
interior of this place, and have arranged our rooms and storehouses in the
left part, we shall still have this splendid cavern, which we will make
our study and our museum!"

"And we will call it?—" asked Herbert.

"Granite House," replied Harding; a name which his companions again
saluted with a cheer.

The torches were now almost consumed, and as they were obliged to return
by the passage to reach the summit of the plateau, it was decided to put
off the work necessary for the arrangement of their new dwelling till the
next day.

Before departing, Cyrus Harding leaned once more over the dark well, which
descended perpendicularly to the level of the sea. He listened
attentively. No noise was heard, not even that of the water, which the
undulations of the surge must sometimes agitate in its depths. A flaming
branch was again thrown in. The sides of the well were lighted up for an
instant, but as at the first time, nothing suspicious was seen.

If some marine monster had been surprised unawares by the retreat of the
water, he would by this time have regained the sea by the subterranean
passage, before the new opening had been offered to him.

Meanwhile, the engineer was standing motionless, his eyes fixed on the
gulf, without uttering a word.

The sailor approached him, and touching his arm, "Captain!" said he.

"What do you want, my friend?" asked the engineer, as if he had returned
from the land of dreams.

"The torches will soon go out."

"Forward!" replied Cyrus Harding.

The little band left the cavern and began to ascend through the dark
passage. Top closed the rear, still growling every now and then. The
ascent was painful enough. The settlers rested a few minutes in the upper
grotto, which made a sort of landing-place halfway up the long granite
staircase. Then they began to climb again.

Soon fresher air was felt. The drops of water, dried by evaporation, no
longer sparkled on the walls. The flaring torches began to grow dim. The
one which Neb carried went out, and if they did not wish to find their way
in the dark, they must hasten.

This was done, and a little before four o'clock, at the moment when the
sailor's torch went out in its turn, Cyrus Harding and his companions
passed out of the passage.

Chapter 19

The next day, the 22nd of May, the arrangement of their new dwelling was
commenced. In fact, the settlers longed to exchange the insufficient
shelter of the Chimneys for this large and healthy retreat, in the midst
of solid rock, and sheltered from the water both of the sea and sky. Their
former dwelling was not, however, to be entirely abandoned, for the
engineer intended to make a manufactory of it for important works. Cyrus
Harding's first care was to find out the position of the front of Granite
House from the outside. He went to the beach, and as the pickaxe when it
escaped from the hands of the reporter must have fallen perpendicularly to
the foot of the cliff, the finding it would be sufficient to show the
place where the hole had been pierced in the granite.

The pickaxe was easily found, and the hole could be seen in a
perpendicular line above the spot where it was stuck in the sand. Some
rock pigeons were already flying in and out of the narrow opening; they
evidently thought that Granite House had been discovered on purpose for
them. It was the engineer's intention to divide the right portion of the
cavern into several rooms, preceded by an entrance passage, and to light
it by means of five windows and a door, pierced in the front. Pencroft was
much pleased with the five windows, but he could not understand the use of
the door, since the passage offered a natural staircase, through which it
would always be easy to enter Granite House.

"My friend," replied Harding, "if it is easy for us to reach our dwelling
by this passage, it will be equally easy for others besides us. I mean, on
the contrary, to block up that opening, to seal it hermetically, and, if
it is necessary, to completely hide the entrance by making a dam, and thus
causing the water of the lake to rise."

"But why so many precautions?" asked Pencroft. "As yet we have seen no
dangerous animals. As to our island being inhabited by natives, I don't
believe it!"

"Are you quite sure of that, Pencroft?" asked the engineer, looking at the
sailor.

"Of course we shall not be quite sure, till we have explored it in every
direction," replied Pencroft.

"Yes," said Harding, "for we know only a small portion of it as yet. But
at any rate, if we have no enemies in the interior, they may come from the
exterior, for parts of the Pacific are very dangerous. We must be provided
against every contingency."

Cyrus Harding spoke wisely; and without making any further objection,
Pencroft prepared to execute his orders.

The front of Granite House was then to be lighted by five windows and a
door, besides a large bay window and some smaller oval ones, which would
admit plenty of light to enter into the marvelous nave which was to be
their chief room. This facade, situated at a height of eighty feet above
the ground, was exposed to the east, and the rising sun saluted it with
its first rays. It was found to be just at that part of the cliff which
was between the projection at the mouth of the Mercy and a perpendicular
line traced above the heap of rocks which formed the Chimneys. Thus the
winds from the northeast would only strike it obliquely, for it was
protected by the projection. Besides, until the window-frames were made,
the engineer meant to close the openings with thick shutters, which would
prevent either wind or rain from entering, and which could be concealed in
need.

The first work was to make the openings. This would have taken too long
with the pickaxe alone, and it is known that Harding was an ingenious man.
He had still a quantity of nitro-glycerine at his disposal, and he
employed it usefully. By means of this explosive substance the rock was
broken open at the very places chosen by the engineer. Then, with the
pickaxe and spade, the windows and doors were properly shaped, the jagged
edges were smoothed off, and a few days after the beginning of the work,
Granite House was abundantly lighted by the rising sun, whose rays
penetrated into its most secret recesses. Following the plan proposed by
Cyrus Harding, the space was to be divided into five compartments looking
out on the sea; to the right, an entry with a door, which would meet the
ladder; then a kitchen, thirty feet long; a dining-room, measuring forty
feet; a sleeping-room, of equal size; and lastly, a "Visitor's room,"
petitioned for by Pencroft, and which was next to the great hall. These
rooms, or rather this suite of rooms, would not occupy all the depth of
the cave. There would be also a corridor and a storehouse, in which their
tools, provisions, and stores would be kept. All the productions of the
island, the flora as well as the fauna, were to be there in the best
possible state of preservation, and completely sheltered from the damp.
There was no want of space, so that each object could be methodically
arranged. Besides, the colonists had still at their disposal the little
grotto above the great cavern, which was like the garret of the new
dwelling.

This plan settled, it had only to be put into execution. The miners became
brickmakers again, then the bricks were brought to the foot of Granite
House. Till then, Harding and his companions had only entered the cavern
by the long passage. This mode of communication obliged them first to
climb Prospect Heights, making a detour by the river's bank, and then to
descend two hundred feet through the passage, having to climb as far when
they wished to return to the plateau. This was a great loss of time, and
was also very fatiguing. Cyrus Harding, therefore, resolved to proceed
without any further delay to the fabrication of a strong rope ladder,
which, once raised, would render Granite House completely inaccessible.

This ladder was manufactured with extreme care, and its uprights, formed
of the twisted fibers of a species of cane, had the strength of a thick
cable. As to the rounds, they were made of a sort of red cedar, with
light, strong branches; and this apparatus was wrought by the masterly
hand of Pencroft.

Other ropes were made with vegetable fibers, and a sort of crane with a
tackle was fixed at the door. In this way bricks could easily be raised
into Granite House. The transport of the materials being thus simplified,
the arrangement of the interior could begin immediately. There was no want
of lime, and some thousands of bricks were there ready to be used. The
framework of the partitions was soon raised, very roughly at first, and in
a short time, the cave was divided into rooms and storehouses, according
to the plan agreed upon.

These different works progressed rapidly under the direction of the
engineer, who himself handled the hammer and the trowel. No labor came
amiss to Cyrus Harding, who thus set an example to his intelligent and
zealous companions. They worked with confidence, even gaily, Pencroft
always having some joke to crack, sometimes carpenter, sometimes
rope-maker, sometimes mason, while he communicated his good humor to all
the members of their little world. His faith in the engineer was complete;
nothing could disturb it. He believed him capable of undertaking anything
and succeeding in everything. The question of boots and clothes—assuredly
a serious question,—that of light during the winter months,
utilizing the fertile parts of the island, transforming the wild flora
into cultivated flora, it all appeared easy to him; Cyrus Harding helping,
everything would be done in time. He dreamed of canals facilitating the
transport of the riches of the ground; workings of quarries and mines;
machines for every industrial manufacture; railroads; yes, railroads! of
which a network would certainly one day cover Lincoln Island.

The engineer let Pencroft talk. He did not put down the aspirations of
this brave heart. He knew how communicable confidence is; he even smiled
to hear him speak, and said nothing of the uneasiness for the future which
he felt. In fact, in that part of the Pacific, out of the course of
vessels, it was to be feared that no help would ever come to them. It was
on themselves, on themselves alone, that the settlers must depend, for the
distance of Lincoln Island from all other land was such, that to hazard
themselves in a boat, of a necessarily inferior construction, would be a
serious and perilous thing.

"But," as the sailor said, "they quite took the wind out of the sails of
the Robinsons, for whom everything was done by a miracle."

In fact, they were energetic; an energetic man will succeed where an
indolent one would vegetate and inevitably perish.

Herbert distinguished himself in these works. He was intelligent and
active; understanding quickly, he performed well; and Cyrus Harding became
more and more attached to the boy. Herbert had a lively and reverent love
for the engineer. Pencroft saw the close sympathy which existed between
the two, but he was not in the least jealous. Neb was Neb: he was what he
would be always, courage, zeal, devotion, self-denial personified. He had
the same faith in his master that Pencroft had, but he showed it less
vehemently. When the sailor was enthusiastic, Neb always looked as if he
would say, "Nothing could be more natural." Pencroft and he were great
friends.

As to Gideon Spilett, he took part in the common work, and was not less
skilful in it than his companions, which always rather astonished the
sailor. A "journalist," clever, not only in understanding, but in
performing everything.

The ladder was finally fixed on the 28th of May. There were not less than
a hundred rounds in this perpendicular height of eighty feet. Harding had
been able, fortunately, to divide it in two parts, profiting by an
overhanging of the cliff which made a projection forty feet above the
ground. This projection, carefully leveled by the pickaxe, made a sort of
platform, to which they fixed the first ladder, of which the oscillation
was thus diminished one-half, and a rope permitted it to be raised to the
level of Granite House. As to the second ladder, it was secured both at
its lower part, which rested on the projection, and at its upper end,
which was fastened to the door. In short the ascent had been made much
easier. Besides, Cyrus Harding hoped later to establish an hydraulic
apparatus, which would avoid all fatigue and loss of time, for the
inhabitants of Granite House.

The settlers soon became habituated to the use of this ladder. They were
light and active, and Pencroft, as a sailor, accustomed to run up the
masts and shrouds, was able to give them lessons. But it was also
necessary to give them to Top. The poor dog, with his four paws, was not
formed for this sort of exercise. But Pencroft was such a zealous master,
that Top ended by properly performing his ascents, and soon mounted the
ladder as readily as his brethren in the circus. It need not be said that
the sailor was proud of his pupil. However, more than once Pencroft
hoisted him on his back, which Top never complained of.

It must be mentioned here, that during these works, which were actively
conducted, for the bad season was approaching, the alimentary question was
not neglected. Every day, the reporter and Herbert, who had been voted
purveyors to the colony, devoted some hours to the chase. As yet, they
only hunted in Jacamar Wood, on the left of the river, because, for want
of a bridge or boat, the Mercy had not yet been crossed. All the immense
woods, to which the name of the Forests of the Far West had been given,
were not explored. They reserved this important excursion for the first
fine days of the next spring. But Jacamar Wood was full of game; kangaroos
and boars abounded, and the hunters' iron-tipped spears and bows and arrows
did wonders. Besides, Herbert discovered towards the southwest point of
the lagoon a natural warren, a slightly damp meadow, covered with willows
and aromatic herbs which scented the air, such as thyme, basil, savory,
all the sweet-scented species of the labiated plants, which the rabbits
appeared to be particularly fond of.

On the reporter observing that since the table was spread for the rabbits,
it was strange that the rabbits themselves should be wanting, the two
sportsmen carefully explored the warren. At any rate, it produced an
abundance of useful plants, and a naturalist would have had a good
opportunity of studying many specimens of the vegetable kingdom. Herbert
gathered several shoots of the basil, rosemary, balm, betony, etc., which
possess different medicinal properties, some pectoral, astringent,
febrifuge, others anti-spasmodic, or anti-rheumatic. When, afterwards,
Pencroft asked the use of this collection of herbs,—

"For medicine," replied the lad, "to treat us when we are ill."

"Why should we be ill, since there are no doctors in the island?" asked
Pencroft quite seriously.

There was no reply to be made to that, but the lad went on with his
collection all the same, and it was well received at Granite House.
Besides these medicinal herbs, he added a plant known in North America as
"Oswego tea," which made an excellent beverage.

At last, by searching thoroughly, the hunters arrived at the real site of
the warren. There the ground was perforated like a sieve.

"Here are the burrows!" cried Herbert.

"Yes," replied the reporter, "so I see."

"But are they inhabited?"

"That is the question."

This was soon answered. Almost immediately, hundreds of little animals,
similar to rabbits, fled in every direction, with such rapidity that even
Top could not overtake them. Hunters and dog ran in vain; these rodents
escaped them easily. But the reporter resolved not to leave the place,
until he had captured at least half-a-dozen of the quadrupeds. He wished
to stock their larder first, and domesticate those which they might take
later. It would not have been difficult to do this, with a few snares
stretched at the openings of the burrows. But at this moment they had
neither snares, nor anything to make them of. They must, therefore, be
satisfied with visiting each hole, and rummaging in it with a stick,
hoping by dint of patience to do what could not be done in any other way.

At last, after half an hour, four rodents were taken in their holes. They
were similar to their European brethren, and are commonly known by the
name of American rabbits.

This produce of the chase was brought back to Granite House, and figured
at the evening repast. The tenants of the warren were not at all to be
despised, for they were delicious. It was a valuable resource of the
colony, and it appeared to be inexhaustible.

On the 31st of May the partitions were finished. The rooms had now only to
be furnished, and this would be work for the long winter days. A chimney
was established in the first room, which served as a kitchen. The pipe
destined to conduct the smoke outside gave some trouble to these amateur
bricklayers. It appeared simplest to Harding to make it of brick clay; as
creating an outlet for it to the upper plateau was not to be thought of, a
hole was pierced in the granite above the window of the kitchen, and the
pipe met it like that of an iron stove. Perhaps the winds which blew
directly against the facade would make the chimney smoke, but these winds
were rare, and besides, Master Neb, the cook, was not so very particular
about that.

When these interior arrangements were finished, the engineer occupied
himself in blocking up the outlet by the lake, so as to prevent any access
by that way. Masses of rock were rolled to the entrance and strongly
cemented together. Cyrus Harding did not yet realize his plan of drowning
this opening under the waters of the lake, by restoring them to their
former level by means of a dam. He contented himself with hiding the
obstruction with grass and shrubs, which were planted in the interstices
of the rocks, and which next spring would sprout thickly. However, he used
the waterfall so as to lead a small stream of fresh water to the new
dwelling. A little trench, made below their level, produced this result;
and this derivation from a pure and inexhaustible source yielded
twenty-five or thirty gallons a day. There would never be any want of
water at Granite House. At last all was finished, and it was time, for the
bad season was near. Thick shutters closed the windows of the facade,
until the engineer had time to make glass.

Gideon Spilett had very artistically arranged on the rocky projections
around the windows plants of different kinds, as well as long streaming
grass, so that the openings were picturesquely framed in green, which had
a pleasing effect.

The inhabitants of this solid, healthy, and secure dwelling, could not but
be charmed with their work. The view from the windows extended over a
boundless horizon, which was closed by the two Mandible Capes on the
north, and Claw Cape on the south. All Union Bay was spread before them.
Yes, our brave settlers had reason to be satisfied, and Pencroft was
lavish in his praise of what he humorously called, "his apartments on the
fifth floor above the ground!"

Chapter 20

The winter season set in with the month of June, which corresponds with
the month of December in the Northern Hemisphere. It began with showers
and squalls, which succeeded each other without intermission. The tenants
of Granite House could appreciate the advantages of a dwelling which
sheltered them from the inclement weather. The Chimneys would have been
quite insufficient to protect them against the rigor of winter, and it was
to be feared that the high tides would make another irruption. Cyrus
Harding had taken precautions against this contingency, so as to preserve
as much as possible the forge and furnace which were established there.

During the whole of the month of June the time was employed in different
occupations, which excluded neither hunting nor fishing, the larder being,
therefore, abundantly supplied. Pencroft, so soon as he had leisure,
proposed to set some traps, from which he expected great results. He soon
made some snares with creepers, by the aid of which the warren henceforth
every day furnished its quota of rodents. Neb employed nearly all his time
in salting or smoking meat, which insured their always having plenty of
provisions. The question of clothes was now seriously discussed, the
settlers having no other garments than those they wore when the balloon
threw them on the island. These clothes were warm and good; they had taken
great care of them as well as of their linen, and they were perfectly
whole, but they would soon need to be replaced. Moreover, if the winter
was severe, the settlers would suffer greatly from cold.

On this subject the ingenuity of Harding was at fault. They must provide
for their most pressing wants, settle their dwelling, and lay in a store
of food; thus the cold might come upon them before the question of clothes
had been settled. They must therefore make up their minds to pass this
first winter without additional clothing. When the fine season came round
again, they would regularly hunt those musmons which had been seen on the
expedition to Mount Franklin, and the wool once collected, the engineer
would know how to make it into strong warm stuff.... How? He would
consider.

"Well, we are free to roast ourselves at Granite House!" said Pencroft.
"There are heaps of fuel, and no reason for sparing it."

"Besides," added Gideon Spilett, "Lincoln Island is not situated under a
very high latitude, and probably the winters here are not severe. Did you
not say, Cyrus, that this thirty-fifth parallel corresponded to that of
Spain in the other hemisphere?"

"Doubtless," replied the engineer, "but some winters in Spain are very
cold! No want of snow and ice; and perhaps Lincoln Island is just as
rigorously tried. However, it is an island, and as such, I hope that the
temperature will be more moderate."

"Why, captain?" asked Herbert.

"Because the sea, my boy, may be considered as an immense reservoir, in
which is stored the heat of the summer. When winter comes, it restores
this heat, which insures for the regions near the ocean a medium
temperature, less high in summer, but less low in winter."

"We shall prove that," replied Pencroft. "But I don't want to bother
myself about whether it will be cold or not. One thing is certain, that is
that the days are already short, and the evenings long. Suppose we talk
about the question of light."

"Nothing is easier," replied Harding.

"To talk about?" asked the sailor.

"To settle."

"And when shall we begin?"

"To-morrow, by having a seal hunt."

"To make candles?"

"Yes."

Such was the engineer's project; and it was quite feasible, since he had
lime and sulphuric acid, while the amphibians of the islet would furnish
the fat necessary for the manufacture.

They were now at the 4th of June. It was Whit Sunday and they agreed to
observe this feast. All work was suspended, and prayers were offered to
Heaven. But these prayers were now thanksgivings. The settlers in Lincoln
Island were no longer the miserable castaways thrown on the islet. They
asked for nothing more—they gave thanks. The next day, the 5th of
June, in rather uncertain weather, they set out for the islet. They had to
profit by the low tide to cross the Channel, and it was agreed that they
would construct, for this purpose, as well as they could, a boat which
would render communication so much easier, and would also permit them to
ascend the Mercy, at the time of their grand exploration of the southwest
of the island, which was put off till the first fine days.

The seals were numerous, and the hunters, armed with their iron-tipped
spears, easily killed half-a-dozen. Neb and Pencroft skinned them, and
only brought back to Granite House their fat and skin, this skin being
intended for the manufacture of boots.

The result of the hunt was this: nearly three hundred pounds of fat, all
to be employed in the fabrication of candles.

The operation was extremely simple, and if it did not yield absolutely
perfect results, they were at least very useful. Cyrus Harding would only
have had at his disposal sulphuric acid, but by heating this acid with the
neutral fatty bodies he could separate the glycerine; then from this new
combination, he easily separated the olein, the margarin, and the stearin,
by employing boiling water. But to simplify the operation, he preferred to
saponify the fat by means of lime. By this he obtained a calcareous soap,
easy to decompose by sulphuric acid, which precipitated the lime into the
state of sulphate, and liberated the fatty acids.

From these three acids-oleic, margaric, and stearic-the first, being
liquid, was driven out by a sufficient pressure. As to the two others,
they formed the very substance of which the candles were to be molded.

This operation did not last more than four and twenty hours. The wicks,
after several trials, were made of vegetable fibers, and dipped in the
liquefied substance, they formed regular stearic candles, molded by the
hand, which only wanted whiteness and polish. They would not doubtless
have the advantages of the wicks which are impregnated with boracic acid,
and which vitrify as they burn and are entirely consumed, but Cyrus
Harding having manufactured a beautiful pair of snuffers, these candles
would be greatly appreciated during the long evenings in Granite House.

During this month there was no want of work in the interior of their new
dwelling. The joiners had plenty to do. They improved their tools, which
were very rough, and added others also.

Scissors were made among other things, and the settlers were at last able
to cut their hair, and also to shave, or at least trim their beards.
Herbert had none, Neb but little, but their companions were bristling in a
way which justified the making of the said scissors.

The manufacture of a hand-saw cost infinite trouble, but at last an
instrument was obtained which, when vigorously handled, could divide the
ligneous fibers of the wood. They then made tables, seats, cupboards, to
furnish the principal rooms, and bedsteads, of which all the bedding
consisted of grass mattresses. The kitchen, with its shelves, on which
rested the cooking utensils, its brick stove, looked very well, and Neb
worked away there as earnestly as if he was in a chemist's laboratory.

But the joiners had soon to be replaced by carpenters. In fact, the
waterfall created by the explosion rendered the construction of two
bridges necessary, one on Prospect Heights, the other on the shore. Now
the plateau and the shore were transversely divided by a watercourse,
which had to be crossed to reach the northern part of the island. To avoid
it the colonists had been obliged to make a considerable detour, by
climbing up to the source of the Red Creek. The simplest thing was to
establish on the plateau, and on the shore, two bridges from twenty to
five and twenty feet in length. All the carpenter's work that was needed
was to clear some trees of their branches: this was a business of some
days. Directly the bridges were established, Neb and Pencroft profited by
them to go to the oyster-bed which had been discovered near the downs.
They dragged with them a sort of rough cart, which replaced the former
inconvenient hurdle, and brought back some thousands of oysters, which
soon increased among the rocks and formed a bed at the mouth of the Mercy.
These molluscs were of excellent quality, and the colonists consumed some
daily.

It has been seen that Lincoln Island, although its inhabitants had as yet
only explored a small portion of it, already contributed to almost all
their wants. It was probable that if they hunted into its most secret
recesses, in all the wooded part between the Mercy and Reptile Point, they
would find new treasures.

The settlers in Lincoln Island had still one privation. There was no want
of meat, nor of vegetable products; those ligneous roots which they had
found, when subjected to fermentation, gave them an acid drink, which was
preferable to cold water; they also made sugar, without canes or
beet-roots, by collecting the liquor which distils from the "acer
saceharinum," a sort of maple-tree, which flourishes in all the temperate
zones, and of which the island possessed a great number; they made a very
agreeable tea by employing the herbs brought from the warren; lastly, they
had an abundance of salt, the only mineral which is used in food... but
bread was wanting.

Perhaps in time the settlers could replace this want by some equivalent,
it was possible that they might find the sago or the breadfruit tree among
the forests of the south, but they had not as yet met with these precious
trees. However, Providence came directly to their aid, in an infinitesimal
proportion it is true, but Cyrus Harding, with all his intelligence, all
his ingenuity, would never have been able to produce that which, by the
greatest chance, Herbert one day found in the lining of his waistcoat,
which he was occupied in setting to rights.

On this day, as it was raining in torrents, the settlers were assembled in
the great hall in Granite House, when the lad cried out all at once,—

"Look here, captain—A grain of corn!"

And he showed his companions a grain—a single grain—which from
a hole in his pocket had got into the lining of his waistcoat.

The presence of this grain was explained by the fact that Herbert, when at
Richmond, used to feed some pigeons, of which Pencroft had made him a
present.

"A grain of corn?" said the engineer quickly.

"Yes, captain; but one, only one!"

"Well, my boy," said Pencroft, laughing, "we're getting on capitally, upon
my word! What shall we make with one grain of corn?"

"We will make bread of it," replied Cyrus Harding.

"Bread, cakes, tarts!" replied the sailor. "Come, the bread that this
grain of corn will make won't choke us very soon!"

Herbert, not attaching much importance to his discovery, was going to
throw away the grain in question; but Harding took it, examined it, found
that it was in good condition, and looking the sailor full in the face—"Pencroft,"
he asked quietly, "do you know how many ears one grain of corn can
produce?"

"One, I suppose!" replied the sailor, surprised at the question.

"Ten, Pencroft! And do you know how many grains one ear bears?"

"No, upon my word."

"About eighty!" said Cyrus Harding. "Then, if we plant this grain, at the
first crop we shall reap eight hundred grains which at the second will
produce six hundred and forty thousand; at the third, five hundred and
twelve millions; at the fourth, more than four hundred thousands of
millions! There is the proportion."

Harding's companions listened without answering. These numbers astonished
them. They were exact, however.

"Yes, my friends," continued the engineer, "such are the arithmetical
progressions of prolific nature; and yet what is this multiplication of
the grain of corn, of which the ear only bears eight hundred grains,
compared to the poppy-plant, which bears thirty-two thousand seeds; to the
tobacco-plant, which produces three hundred and sixty thousand? In a few
years, without the numerous causes of destruction, which arrests their
fecundity, these plants would overrun the earth."

But the engineer had not finished his lecture.

"And now, Pencroft," he continued, "do you know how many bushels four
hundred thousand millions of grains would make?"

"No," replied the sailor; "but what I do know is, that I am nothing better
than a fool!"

"Well, they would make more than three millions, at a hundred and thirty
thousand a bushel, Pencroft."

"Three millions!" cried Pencroft.

"Three millions."

"In four years?"

"In four years," replied Cyrus Harding, "and even in two years, if, as I
hope, in this latitude we can obtain two crops a year."

At that, according to his usual custom, Pencroft could not reply otherwise
than by a tremendous hurrah.

"So, Herbert," added the engineer, "you have made a discovery of great
importance to us. Everything, my friends, everything can serve us in the
condition in which we are. Do not forget that, I beg of you."

"No, captain, no, we shan't forget it," replied Pencroft; "and if ever I
find one of those tobacco-seeds, which multiply by three hundred and sixty
thousand, I assure you I won't throw it away! And now, what must we do?"

This was the 20th of June. The time was then propitious for sowing this
single precious grain of corn. It was first proposed to plant it in a pot,
but upon reflection it was decided to leave it to nature, and confide it
to the earth. This was done that very day, and it is needless to add, that
every precaution was taken that the experiment might succeed.

The weather having cleared, the settlers climbed the height above Granite
House. There, on the plateau, they chose a spot, well sheltered from the
wind, and exposed to all the heat of the midday sun. The place was
cleared, carefully weeded, and searched for insects and worms; then a bed
of good earth, improved with a little lime, was made; it was surrounded by
a railing; and the grain was buried in the damp earth.

Did it not seem as if the settlers were laying the first stone of some
edifice? It recalled to Pencroft the day on which he lighted his only
match, and all the anxiety of the operation. But this time the thing was
more serious. In fact, the castaways would have been always able to
procure fire, in some mode or other, but no human power could supply
another grain of corn, if unfortunately this should be lost!

Chapter 21

From this time Pencroft did not let a single day pass without going to
visit what he gravely called his "corn-field." And woe to the insects
which dared to venture there! No mercy was shown them.

Towards the end of the month of June, after incessant rain, the weather
became decidedly colder, and on the 29th a Fahrenheit thermometer would
certainly have announced only twenty degrees above zero, that is
considerably below the freezing-point. The next day, the 30th of June, the
day which corresponds to the 31st of December in the northern year, was a
Friday. Neb remarked that the year finished on a bad day, but Pencroft
replied that naturally the next would begin on a good one, which was
better.

At any rate it commenced by very severe cold. Ice accumulated at the mouth
of the Mercy, and it was not long before the whole expanse of the lake was
frozen.

The settlers had frequently been obliged to renew their store of wood.
Pencroft also had wisely not waited till the river was frozen, but had
brought enormous rafts of wood to their destination. The current was an
indefatigable moving power, and it was employed in conveying the floating
wood to the moment when the frost enchained it. To the fuel which was so
abundantly supplied by the forest, they added several cartloads of coal,
which had to be brought from the foot of the spurs of Mount Franklin. The
powerful heat of the coal was greatly appreciated in the low temperature,
which on the 4th of July fell to eight degrees of Fahrenheit, that is,
thirteen degrees below zero. A second fireplace had been established in
the dining-room, where they all worked together at their different
avocations. During this period of cold, Cyrus Harding had great cause to
congratulate himself on having brought to Granite House the little stream
of water from Lake Grant. Taken below the frozen surface, and conducted
through the passage, it preserved its fluidity, and arrived at an interior
reservoir which had been hollowed out at the back part of the storeroom,
while the overflow ran through the well to the sea.

About this time, the weather being extremely dry, the colonists, clothed
as warmly as possible, resolved to devote a day to the exploration of that
part of the island between the Mercy and Claw Cape. It was a wide extent
of marshy land, and they would probably find good sport, for water-birds
ought to swarm there.

They reckoned that it would be about eight or nine miles to go there, and
as much to return, so that the whole of the day would be occupied. As an
unknown part of the island was about to be explored, the whole colony took
part in the expedition. Accordingly, on the 5th of July, at six o'clock in
the morning, when day had scarcely broken, Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spilett,
Herbert, Neb, and Pencroft, armed with spears, snares, bows and arrows,
and provided with provisions, left Granite House, preceded by Top, who
bounded before them.

Their shortest way was to cross the Mercy on the ice, which then covered
it.

"But," as the engineer justly observed, "that could not take the place of
a regular bridge!" So, the construction of a regular bridge was noted in
the list of future works.

It was the first time that the settlers had set foot on the right bank of
the Mercy, and ventured into the midst of those gigantic and superb
coniferae now sprinkled over with snow.

But they had not gone half a mile when from a thicket a whole family of
quadrupeds, who had made a home there, disturbed by Top, rushed forth into
the open country.

"Ah! I should say those are foxes!" cried Herbert, when he saw the troop
rapidly decamping.

They were foxes, but of a very large size, who uttered a sort of barking,
at which Top seemed to be very much astonished, for he stopped short in
the chase, and gave the swift animals time to disappear.

The dog had reason to be surprised, as he did not know Natural History.
But, by their barking, these foxes, with reddish-gray hair, black tails
terminating in a white tuft, had betrayed their origin. So Herbert was
able, without hesitating, to give them their real name of "Arctic foxes."
They are frequently met with in Chile, in the Falkland Islands, and in all
parts of America traversed by the thirtieth and fortieth parallels.
Herbert much regretted that Top had not been able to catch one of these
carnivora.

"Are they good to eat?" asked Pencroft, who only regarded the
representatives of the fauna in the island from one special point of view.

"No," replied Herbert; "but zoologists have not yet found out if the eye
of these foxes is diurnal or nocturnal, or whether it is correct to class
them in the genus dog, properly so called."

Harding could not help smiling on hearing the lad's reflection, which
showed a thoughtful mind. As to the sailor, from the moment when he found
that the foxes were not classed in the genus eatable, they were nothing to
him. However, when a poultry-yard was established at Granite House, he
observed that it would be best to take some precautions against a probable
visit from these four-legged plunderers, and no one disputed this.

After having turned the point, the settlers saw a long beach washed by the
open sea. It was then eight o'clock in the morning. The sky was very
clear, as it often is after prolonged cold; but warmed by their walk,
neither Harding nor his companions felt the sharpness of the atmosphere
too severely. Besides there was no wind, which made it much more bearable.
A brilliant sun, but without any calorific action, was just issuing from
the ocean. The sea was as tranquil and blue as that of a Mediterranean
gulf, when the sky is clear. Claw Cape, bent in the form of a yataghan,
tapered away nearly four miles to the southeast. To the left the edge of
the marsh was abruptly ended by a little point. Certainly, in this part of
Union Bay, which nothing sheltered from the open sea, not even a sandbank,
ships beaten by the east winds would have found no shelter. They perceived
by the tranquillity of the sea, in which no shallows troubled the waters,
by its uniform color, which was stained by no yellow shades, by the
absence of even a reef, that the coast was steep and that the ocean there
covered a deep abyss. Behind in the west, but at a distance of four miles,
rose the first trees of the forests of the Far West. They might have
believed themselves to be on the desolate coast of some island in the
Antarctic regions which the ice had invaded. The colonists halted at this
place for breakfast. A fire of brushwood and dried seaweed was lighted,
and Neb prepared the breakfast of cold meat, to which he added some cups
of Oswego tea.

While eating they looked around them. This part of Lincoln Island was very
sterile, and contrasted with all the western part. The reporter was thus
led to observe that if chance had thrown them at first on the shore, they
would have had but a deplorable idea of their future domain.

"I believe that we should not have been able to reach it," replied the
engineer, "for the sea is deep, and there is not a rock on which we could
have taken refuge. Before Granite House, at least, there were sandbanks,
an islet, which multiplied our chances of safety. Here, nothing but the
depths!"

"It is singular enough," remarked Spilett, "that this comparatively small
island should present such varied ground. This diversity of aspect,
logically only belongs to continents of a certain extent. One would really
say, that the western part of Lincoln Island, so rich and so fertile, is
washed by the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico, and that its shores to
the north and the southeast extend over a sort of Arctic sea."

"You are right, my dear Spilett," replied Cyrus Harding, "I have also
observed this. I think the form and also the nature of this island
strange. It is a summary of all the aspects which a continent presents,
and I should not be surprised if it was a continent formerly."

"What! a continent in the middle of the Pacific?" cried Pencroft.

"Why not?" replied Cyrus Harding. "Why should not Australia, New Ireland,
Australasia, united to the archipelagoes of the Pacific, have once formed
a sixth part of the world, as important as Europe or Asia, as Africa or
the two Americas? To my mind, it is quite possible that all these islands,
emerging from this vast ocean, are but the summits of a continent, now
submerged, but which was above the waters at a prehistoric period."

"As the Atlantis was formerly," replied Herbert.

"Yes, my boy... if, however, it existed."

"And would Lincoln Island have been a part of that continent?" asked
Pencroft.

"It is probable," replied Cyrus Harding, "and that would sufficiently,
explain the variety of productions which are seen on its surface."

"And the great number of animals which still inhabit it," added Herbert.

"Yes, my boy," replied the engineer, "and you furnish me with an argument
to support my theory. It is certain, after what we have seen, that animals
are numerous in this island, and what is more strange, that the species
are extremely varied. There is a reason for that, and to me it is that
Lincoln Island may have formerly been a part of some vast continent which
had gradually sunk below the Pacific."

"Then, some fine day," said Pencroft, who did not appear to be entirely
convinced, "the rest of this ancient continent may disappear in its turn,
and there will be nothing between America and Asia."

"Yes," replied Harding, "there will be new continents which millions and
millions of animalculae are building at this moment."

"And what are these masons?" asked Pencroft.

"Coral insects," replied Cyrus Harding. "By constant work they made the
island of Clermont-Tonnerre, and numerous other coral islands in the
Pacific Ocean. Forty-seven millions of these insects are needed to weigh a
grain, and yet, with the sea-salt they absorb, the solid elements of water
which they assimilate, these animalculae produce limestone, and this
limestone forms enormous submarine erections, of which the hardness and
solidity equal granite. Formerly, at the first periods of creation, nature
employing fire, heaved up the land, but now she entrusts to these
microscopic creatures the task of replacing this agent, of which the
dynamic power in the interior of the globe has evidently diminished—which
is proved by the number of volcanoes on the surface of the earth, now
actually extinct. And I believe that centuries succeeding to centuries,
and insects to insects, this Pacific may one day be changed into a vast
continent, which new generations will inhabit and civilize in their turn."

"That will take a long time," said Pencroft.

"Nature has time for it," replied the engineer.

"But what would be the use of new continents?" asked Herbert. "It appears
to me that the present extent of habitable countries is sufficient for
humanity. Yet nature does nothing uselessly."

"Nothing uselessly, certainly," replied the engineer, "but this is how the
necessity of new continents for the future, and exactly on the tropical
zone occupied by the coral islands, may be explained. At least to me this
explanation appears plausible."

"We are listening, captain," said Herbert.

"This is my idea: philosophers generally admit that some day our globe
will end, or rather that animal and vegetable life will no longer be
possible, because of the intense cold to which it will be subjected. What
they are not agreed upon, is the cause of this cold. Some think that it
will arise from the falling of the temperature, which the sun will
experience after millions of years; others, from the gradual extinction of
the fires in the interior of our globe, which have a greater influence on
it than is generally supposed. I hold to this last hypothesis, grounding
it on the fact that the moon is really a cold star, which is no longer
habitable, although the sun continues to throw on its surface the same
amount of heat. If, then, the moon has become cold, it is because the
interior fires to which, as do all the stars of the stellar world, it owes
its origin, are completely extinct. Lastly, whatever may be the cause, our
globe will become cold some day, but this cold will only operate
gradually. What will happen, then? The temperate zones, at a more or less
distant period, will not be more habitable than the polar regions now are.
Then the population of men, as well as the animals, will flow towards the
latitudes which are more directly under the solar influence. An immense
emigration will take place. Europe, Central Asia, North America, will
gradually be abandoned, as well as Australasia and the lower parts of
South America. The vegetation will follow the human emigration. The flora
will retreat towards the Equator at the same time as the fauna. The
central parts of South America and Africa will be the continents chiefly
inhabited. The Laplanders and the Samoides will find the climate of the
polar regions on the shores of the Mediterranean. Who can say, that at
this period, the equatorial regions will not be too small, to contain and
nourish terrestrial humanity? Now, may not provident nature, so as to give
refuge to all the vegetable and animal emigration, be at present laying
the foundation of a new continent under the Equator, and may she not have
entrusted these insects with the construction of it? I have often thought
of all these things, my friends, and I seriously believe that the aspect
of our globe will some day be completely changed; that by the raising of
new continents the sea will cover the old, and that, in future ages, a
Columbus will go to discover the islands of Chimborazo, of the Himalayas,
or of Mont Blanc, remains of a submerged America, Asia, and Europe. Then
these new continents will become, in their turn, uninhabitable; heat will
die away, as does the heat from a body when the soul has left it; and life
will disappear from the globe, if not for ever, at least for a period.
Perhaps then, our spheroid will rest—will be left to death—to
revive some day under superior conditions! But all that, my friends, is
the secret of the Author of all things; and beginning by the work of the
insects, I have perhaps let myself be carried too far, in investigating
the secrets of the future.

"My dear Cyrus," replied Spilett, "these theories are prophecies to me,
and they will be accomplished some day."

"That is the secret of God," said the engineer.

"All that is well and good," then said Pencroft, who had listened with all
his might, "but will you tell me, captain, if Lincoln Island has been made
by your insects?"

"No," replied Harding; "it is of a purely volcanic origin."

"Then it will disappear some day?"

"That is probable."

"I hope we won't be here then."

"No, don't be uneasy, Pencroft; we shall not be here then, as we have no
wish to die here, and hope to get away some time."

"In the meantime," replied Gideon Spilett, "let us establish ourselves
here as if forever. There is no use in doing things by halves."

This ended the conversation. Breakfast was finished, the exploration was
continued, and the settlers arrived at the border of the marshy region. It
was a marsh of which the extent, to the rounded coast which terminated the
island at the southeast, was about twenty square miles. The soil was
formed of clayey flint-earth, mingled with vegetable matter, such as the
remains of rushes, reeds, grass, etc. Here and there beds of grass, thick
as a carpet, covered it. In many places icy pools sparkled in the sun.
Neither rain nor any river, increased by a sudden swelling, could supply
these ponds. They therefore naturally concluded that the marsh was fed by
the infiltrations of the soil and it was really so. It was also to be
feared that during the heat miasmas would arise, which might produce
fevers.

Above the aquatic plants, on the surface of the stagnant water, fluttered
numbers of birds. Wild duck, teal, snipe lived there in flocks, and those
fearless birds allowed themselves to be easily approached.

One shot from a gun would certainly have brought down some dozen of the
birds, they were so close together. The explorers were, however, obliged
to content themselves with bows and arrows. The result was less, but the
silent arrow had the advantage of not frightening the birds, while the
noise of firearms would have dispersed them to all parts of the marsh. The
hunters were satisfied, for this time, with a dozen ducks, which had white
bodies with a band of cinnamon, a green head, wings black, white, and red,
and flattened beak. Herbert called them tadorns. Top helped in the capture
of these birds, whose name was given to this marshy part of the island.
The settlers had here an abundant reserve of aquatic game. At some future
time they meant to explore it more carefully, and it was probable that
some of the birds there might be domesticated, or at least brought to the
shores of the lake, so that they would be more within their reach.

About five o'clock in the evening Cyrus Harding and his companions
retraced their steps to their dwelling by traversing Tadorn's Fens, and
crossed the Mercy on the ice-bridge.

At eight in the evening they all entered Granite House.

Chapter 22

This intense cold lasted till the 15th of August, without, however,
passing the degree of Fahrenheit already mentioned. When the atmosphere
was calm, the low temperature was easily borne, but when the wind blew,
the poor settlers, insufficiently clothed, felt it severely. Pencroft
regretted that Lincoln Island was not the home of a few families of bears
rather than of so many foxes and seals.

"Bears," said he, "are generally very well dressed, and I ask no more than
to borrow for the winter the warm cloaks which they have on their backs."

"But," replied Neb, laughing, "perhaps the bears would not consent to give
you their cloaks, Pencroft. These beasts are not St. Martins."

"We would make them do it, Neb, we would make them," replied Pencroft, in
quite an authoritative tone.

But these formidable carnivora did not exist in the island, or at any rate
they had not yet shown themselves.

In the meanwhile, Herbert, Pencroft, and the reporter occupied themselves
with making traps on Prospect Heights and at the border of the forest.

According to the sailor, any animal, whatever it was, would be a lawful
prize, and the rodents or carnivora which might get into the new snares
would be well received at Granite House.

The traps were besides extremely simple; being pits dug in the ground, a
platform of branches and grass above, which concealed the opening, and at
the bottom some bait, the scent of which would attract animals. It must be
mentioned also, that they had not been dug at random, but at certain
places where numerous footprints showed that quadrupeds frequented the
ground. They were visited every day, and at three different times, during
the first days, specimens of those Antarctic foxes which they had already
seen on the right bank of the Mercy were found in them.

"Why, there are nothing but foxes in this country!" cried Pencroft, when
for the third time he drew one of the animals out of the pit. Looking at
it in great disgust, he added, "beasts which are good for nothing!"

"Yes," said Gideon Spilett, "they are good for something!"

"And what is that?"

"To make bait to attract other creatures!"

The reporter was right, and the traps were henceforward baited with the
foxes carcasses.

The sailor had also made snares from the long tough fibers of a certain
plant, and they were even more successful than the traps. Rarely a day
passed without some rabbits from the warren being caught. It was always
rabbit, but Neb knew how to vary his sauces and the settlers did not think
of complaining.

However, once or twice in the second week of August, the traps supplied
the hunters with other animals more useful than foxes, namely, several of
those small wild boars which had already been seen to the north of the
lake. Pencroft had no need to ask if these beasts were eatable. He could
see that by their resemblance to the pig of America and Europe.

"But these are not pigs," said Herbert to him, "I warn you of that,
Pencroft."

"My boy," replied the sailor, bending over the trap and drawing out one of
these representatives of the family of sus by the little appendage which
served it as a tail. "Let me believe that these are pigs."

"Why?"

"Because that pleases me!"

"Are you very fond of pig then, Pencroft?"

"I am very fond of pig," replied the sailor, "particularly of its feet,
and if it had eight instead of four, I should like it twice as much!"

As to the animals in question, they were peccaries belonging to one of the
four species which are included in the family, and they were also of the
species of Tajacu, recognizable by their deep color and the absence of
those long teeth with which the mouths of their congeners are armed. These
peccaries generally live in herds, and it was probable that they abounded
in the woody parts of the island.

At any rate, they were eatable from head to foot, and Pencroft did not ask
more from them.

Towards the 15th of August, the state of the atmosphere was suddenly
moderated by the wind shifting to the northwest. The temperature rose some
degrees, and the accumulated vapor in the air was not long in resolving
into snow. All the island was covered with a sheet of white, and showed
itself to its inhabitants under a new aspect. The snow fell abundantly for
several days, and it soon reached a thickness of two feet.

The wind also blew with great violence, and at the height of Granite House
the sea could be heard thundering against the reefs. In some places, the
wind, eddying round the corners, formed the snow into tall whirling
columns, resembling those waterspouts which turn round on their base, and
which vessels attack with a shot from a gun. However, the storm, coming
from the northwest, blew across the island, and the position of Granite
House preserved it from a direct attack.

But in the midst of this snow-storm, as terrible as if it had been
produced in some polar country, neither Cyrus Harding nor his companions
could, notwithstanding their wish for it, venture forth, and they remained
shut up for five days, from the 20th to the 25th of August. They could
hear the tempest raging in Jacamar Wood, which would surely suffer from
it. Many of the trees would no doubt be torn up by the roots, but Pencroft
consoled himself by thinking that he would not have the trouble of cutting
them down.

"The wind is turning woodman, let it alone," he repeated.

Besides, there was no way of stopping it, if they had wished to do so.

How grateful the inhabitants of Granite House then were to Heaven for
having prepared for them this solid and immovable retreat! Cyrus Harding
had also his legitimate share of thanks, but after all, it was Nature who
had hollowed out this vast cavern, and he had only discovered it. There
all were in safety, and the tempest could not reach them. If they had
constructed a house of bricks and wood on Prospect Heights, it certainly
would not have resisted the fury of this storm. As to the Chimneys, it
must have been absolutely uninhabitable, for the sea, passing over the
islet, would beat furiously against it. But here, in Granite House, in the
middle of a solid mass, over which neither the sea nor air had any
influence, there was nothing to fear.

During these days of seclusion the settlers did not remain inactive.

There was no want of wood, cut up into planks, in the storeroom, and
little by little they completed their furnishing; constructing the most
solid of tables and chairs, for material was not spared. Neb and Pencroft
were very proud of this rather heavy furniture, which they would not have
changed on any account.

Then the carpenters became basket-makers, and they did not succeed badly
in this new manufacture. At the point of the lake which projected to the
north, they had discovered an osier-bed in which grew a large number of
purple osiers. Before the rainy season, Pencroft and Herbert had cut down
these useful shrubs, and their branches, well prepared, could now be
effectively employed. The first attempts were somewhat crude, but in
consequence of the cleverness and intelligence of the workmen, by
consulting, and recalling the models which they had seen, and by emulating
each other, the possessions of the colony were soon increased by several
baskets of different sizes. The storeroom was provided with them, and in
special baskets Neb placed his collection of rhizomes, stone-pine almonds,
etc.

During the last week of the month of August the weather moderated again.
The temperature fell a little, and the tempest abated. The colonists
sallied out directly. There was certainly two feet of snow on the shore,
but they were able to walk without much difficulty on the hardened
surface. Cyrus Harding and his companions climbed Prospect Heights.

What a change! The woods, which they had left green, especially in the
part at which the firs predominated, had disappeared under a uniform
color. All was white, from the summit of Mount Franklin to the shore, the
forests, the plains, the lake, the river. The waters of the Mercy flowed
under a roof of ice, which, at each rising and ebbing of the tide, broke
up with loud crashes. Numerous birds fluttered over the frozen surface of
the lake. Ducks and snipe, teal and guillemots were assembled in
thousands. The rocks among which the cascade flowed were bristling with
icicles. One might have said that the water escaped by a monstrous
gargoyle, shaped with all the imagination of an artist of the Renaissance.
As to the damage caused by the storm in the forest, that could not as yet
be ascertained; they would have to wait till the snowy covering was
dissipated.

Gideon Spilett, Pencroft, and Herbert did not miss this opportunity of
going to visit their traps. They did not find them easily, under the snow
with which they were covered. They had also to be careful not to fall into
one or other of them, which would have been both dangerous and
humiliating; to be taken in their own snares! But happily they avoided
this unpleasantness, and found their traps perfectly intact. No animal had
fallen into them, and yet the footprints in the neighborhood were very
numerous, among others, certain very clear marks of claws. Herbert did not
hesitate to affirm that some animal of the feline species had passed
there, which justified the engineer's opinion that dangerous beasts
existed in Lincoln Island. These animals doubtless generally lived in the
forests of the Far West, but pressed by hunger, they had ventured as far
as Prospect Heights. Perhaps they had smelled out the inhabitants of
Granite House. "Now, what are these feline creatures?" asked Pencroft.
"They are tigers," replied Herbert. "I thought those beasts were only
found in hot countries?"

"On the new continent," replied the lad, "they are found from Mexico to
the Pampas of Buenos Aires. Now, as Lincoln Island is nearly under the
same latitude as the provinces of La Plata, it is not surprising that
tigers are to be met with in it."

"Well, we must look out for them," replied Pencroft.

However, the snow soon disappeared, quickly dissolving under the influence
of the rising temperature. Rain fell, and the sheet of white soon
vanished. Notwithstanding the bad weather, the settlers renewed their
stores of different things, stone-pine almonds, rhizomes, syrup from the
maple-tree, for the vegetable part; rabbits from the warren, agouties, and
kangaroos for the animal part. This necessitated several excursions into
the forest, and they found that a great number of trees had been blown
down by the last hurricane. Pencroft and Neb also pushed with the cart as
far as the vein of coal, and brought back several tons of fuel. They saw
in passing that the pottery kiln had been severely damaged by the wind, at
least six feet of it having been blown off.

At the same time as the coal, the store of wood was renewed at Granite
House, and they profited by the current of the Mercy having again become
free, to float down several rafts. They could see that the cold period was
not ended.

A visit was also paid to the Chimneys, and the settlers could not but
congratulate themselves on not having been living there during the
hurricane. The sea had left unquestionable traces of its ravages. Sweeping
over the islet, it had furiously assailed the passages, half filling them
with sand, while thick beds of seaweed covered the rocks. While Neb,
Herbert, and Pencroft hunted or collected wood, Cyrus Harding and Gideon
Spilett busied themselves in putting the Chimneys to rights, and they
found the forge and the bellows almost unhurt, protected as they had been
from the first by the heaps of sand.

The store of fuel had not been made uselessly. The settlers had not done
with the rigorous cold. It is known that, in the Northern Hemisphere, the
month of February is principally distinguished by rapid fallings of the
temperature. It is the same in the Southern Hemisphere, and the end of the
month of August, which is the February of North America, does not escape
this climatic law.

About the 25th, after another change from snow to rain, the wind shifted
to the southeast, and the cold became, suddenly, very severe. According to
the engineer's calculation, the mercurial column of a Fahrenheit
thermometer would not have marked less than eight degrees below zero, and
this intense cold, rendered still more painful by a sharp gale, lasted for
several days. The colonists were again shut up in Granite House, and as it
was necessary to hermetically seal all the openings of the facade, only
leaving a narrow passage for renewing the air, the consumption of candles
was considerable. To economize them, the cavern was often only lighted by
the blazing hearths, on which fuel was not spared. Several times, one or
other of the settlers descended to the beach in the midst of ice which the
waves heaped up at each tide, but they soon climbed up again to Granite
House, and it was not without pain and difficulty that their hands could
hold to the rounds of the ladder. In consequence of the intense cold,
their fingers felt as if burned when they touched the rounds. To occupy
the leisure hours, which the tenants of Granite House now had at their
disposal, Cyrus Harding undertook an operation which could be performed
indoors.

We know that the settlers had no other sugar at their disposal than the
liquid substance which they drew from the maple, by making deep incisions
in the tree. They contented themselves with collecting this liquor in jars
and employing it in this state for different culinary purposes, and the
more so, as on growing old, this liquid began to become white and to be of
a syrupy consistence.

But there was something better to be made of it, and one day Cyrus Harding
announced that they were going to turn into refiners.

"Refiners!" replied Pencroft. "That is rather a warm trade, I think."

"Very warm," answered the engineer.

"Then it will be seasonable!" said the sailor.

This word refining need not awake in the mind thoughts of an elaborate
manufactory with apparatus and numerous workmen. No! to crystallize this
liquor, only an extremely easy operation is required. Placed on the fire
in large earthen pots, it was simply subjected to evaporation, and soon a
scum arose to its surface. As soon as this began to thicken, Neb carefully
removed it with a wooden spatula; this accelerated the evaporation, and at
the same time prevented it from contracting an empyreumatic flavor.

After boiling for several hours on a hot fire, which did as much good to
the operators as the substance operated upon, the latter was transformed
into a thick syrup. This syrup was poured into clay molds, previously
fabricated in the kitchen stove, and to which they had given various
shapes. The next day this syrup had become cold, and formed cakes and
tablets. This was sugar of rather a reddish color, but nearly transparent
and of a delicious taste.

The cold continued to the middle of September, and the prisoners in
Granite House began to find their captivity rather tedious. Nearly every
day they attempted sorties which they could not prolong. They constantly
worked at the improvement of their dwelling. They talked while working.
Harding instructed his companions in many things, principally explaining
to them the practical applications of science. The colonists had no
library at their disposal; but the engineer was a book which was always at
hand, always open at the page which one wanted, a book which answered all
their questions, and which they often consulted. The time thus passed away
pleasantly, these brave men not appearing to have any fears for the
future.

However, all were anxious to see, if not the fine season, at least the
cessation of the insupportable cold. If only they had been clothed in a
way to meet it, how many excursions they would have attempted, either to
the downs or to Tadorn's Fens! Game would have been easily approached, and
the chase would certainly have been most productive. But Cyrus Harding
considered it of importance that no one should injure his health, for he
had need of all his hands, and his advice was followed.

But it must be said, that the one who was most impatient of this
imprisonment, after Pencroft perhaps, was Top. The faithful dog found
Granite House very narrow. He ran backwards and forwards from one room to
another, showing in his way how weary he was of being shut up. Harding
often remarked that when he approached the dark well which communicated
with the sea, and of which the orifice opened at the back of the
storeroom, Top uttered singular growlings. He ran round and round this
hole, which had been covered with a wooden lid. Sometimes even he tried to
put his paws under the lid, as if he wished to raise it. He then yelped in
a peculiar way, which showed at once anger and uneasiness.

The engineer observed this maneuver several times.

What could there be in this abyss to make such an impression on the
intelligent animal? The well led to the sea, that was certain. Could
narrow passages spread from it through the foundations of the island? Did
some marine monster come from time to time, to breathe at the bottom of
this well? The engineer did not know what to think, and could not refrain
from dreaming of many strange improbabilities. Accustomed to go far into
the regions of scientific reality, he would not allow himself to be drawn
into the regions of the strange and almost of the supernatural; but yet
how to explain why Top, one of those sensible dogs who never waste their
time in barking at the moon, should persist in trying with scent and
hearing to fathom this abyss, if there was nothing there to cause his
uneasiness? Top's conduct puzzled Cyrus Harding even more than he cared to
acknowledge to himself.

At all events, the engineer only communicated his impressions to Gideon
Spilett, for he thought it useless to explain to his companions the
suspicions which arose from what perhaps was only Top's fancy.

At last the cold ceased. There had been rain, squalls mingled with snow,
hailstorms, gusts of wind, but these inclemencies did not last. The ice
melted, the snow disappeared; the shore, the plateau, the banks of the
Mercy, the forest, again became practicable. This return of spring
delighted the tenants of Granite House, and they soon only passed in it
the hours necessary for eating and sleeping.

They hunted much in the second part of September, which led Pencroft to
again entreat for the firearms, which he asserted had been promised by
Cyrus Harding. The latter, knowing well that without special tools it
would be nearly impossible for him to manufacture a gun which would be of
any use, still drew back and put off the operation to some future time,
observing in his usual dry way, that Herbert and Spilett had become very
skilful archers, so that many sorts of excellent animals, agouties,
kangaroos, capybaras, pigeons, bustards, wild ducks, snipes, in short,
game both with fur and feathers, fell victims to their arrows, and that,
consequently, they could wait. But the obstinate sailor would listen to
nothing of this, and he would give the engineer no peace till he promised
to satisfy his desire. Gideon Spilett, however, supported Pencroft.

"If, which may be doubted," said he, "the island is inhabited by wild
beasts, we must think how to fight with and exterminate them. A time may
come when this will be our first duty."

But at this period, it was not the question of firearms which occupied
Harding, but that of clothes. Those which the settlers wore had passed
this winter, but they would not last until next winter. Skins of carnivora
or the wool of ruminants must be procured at any price, and since there
were plenty of musmons, it was agreed to consult on the means of forming a
flock which might be brought up for the use of the colony. An enclosure
for the domestic animals, a poultry-yard for the birds, in a word to
establish a sort of farm in the island, such were the two important
projects for the fine season.

In consequence and in view of these future establishments, it became of
much importance that they should penetrate into all the yet unknown parts
of Lincoln Island, that is to say, through that thick forest which
extended on the right bank of the Mercy, from its mouth to the extremity
of the Serpentine Peninsula, as well as on the whole of its western side.
But this needed settled weather, and a month must pass before this
exploration could be profitably undertaken.

They therefore waited with some impatience, when an incident occurred
which increased the desire the settlers had to visit the whole of their
domain.

It was the 24th of October. On this day, Pencroft had gone to visit his
traps, which he always kept properly baited. In one of them he found three
animals which would be very welcome for the larder. They were a female
peccary and her two young ones.

Pencroft then returned to Granite House, enchanted with his capture, and,
as usual, he made a great show of his game.

"Come, we shall have a grand feast, captain!" he exclaimed. "And you too,
Mr. Spilett, you will eat some!"

"I shall be very happy," replied the reporter; "but what is it that I am
going to eat?"

"Suckling-pig."

"Oh, indeed, suckling-pig, Pencroft? To hear you, I thought that you were
bringing back a young partridge stuffed with truffles!"

"What?" cried Pencroft. "Do you mean to say that you turn up your nose at
suckling-pig?'

"That's right, that's right," returned the sailor, who was not pleased
whenever he heard his chase made light of. "You like to make objections.
Seven months ago, when we landed on the island, you would have been only
too glad to have met with such game!"

"Now," said Pencroft, "I hope that Neb will distinguish himself. Look
here! These two little peccaries are not more than three months old! They
will be as tender as quails! Come along, Neb, come! I will look after the
cooking myself."

And the sailor, followed by Neb, entered the kitchen, where they were soon
absorbed in their culinary labors.

They were allowed to do it in their own way. Neb, therefore, prepared a
magnificent repast—the two little peccaries, kangaroo soup, a smoked
ham, stone-pine almonds, Oswego tea; in fact, all the best that they had,
but among all the dishes figured in the first rank the savory peccaries.

At five o'clock dinner was served in the dining-room of Granite House. The
kangaroo soup was smoking on the table. They found it excellent.

To the soup succeeded the peccaries, which Pencroft insisted on carving
himself, and of which he served out monstrous portions to each of the
guests.

These suckling-pigs were really delicious, and Pencroft was devouring his
share with great gusto, when all at once a cry and an oath escaped him.

"What's the matter?" asked Cyrus Harding.

"The matter? the matter is that I have just broken a tooth!" replied the
sailor.

"What, are there pebbles in your peccaries?" said Gideon Spilett.

"I suppose so," replied Pencroft, drawing from his lips the object which
had cost him a grinder—!

It was not a pebble—it was a leaden bullet.

PART 2. ABANDONED

Chapter 1

It was now exactly seven months since the balloon voyagers had been thrown
on Lincoln Island. During that time, notwithstanding the researches they
had made, no human being had been discovered. No smoke even had betrayed
the presence of man on the surface of the island. No vestiges of his
handiwork showed that either at an early or at a late period had man lived
there. Not only did it now appear to be uninhabited by any but themselves,
but the colonists were compelled to believe that it never had been
inhabited. And now, all this scaffolding of reasonings fell before a
simple ball of metal, found in the body of an inoffensive rodent! In fact,
this bullet must have issued from a firearm, and who but a human being
could have used such a weapon?

When Pencroft had placed the bullet on the table, his companions looked at
it with intense astonishment. All the consequences likely to result from
this incident, notwithstanding its apparent insignificance, immediately
took possession of their minds. The sudden apparition of a supernatural
being could not have startled them more completely.

Cyrus Harding did not hesitate to give utterance to the suggestions which
this fact, at once surprising and unexpected, could not fail to raise in
his mind. He took the bullet, turned it over and over, rolled it between
his finger and thumb; then, turning to Pencroft, he asked,—

"Are you sure that the peccary wounded by this bullet was not more than
three months old?"

"Not more, captain," replied Pencroft. "It was still sucking its mother
when I found it in the trap."

"Well," said the engineer, "that proves that within three months a
gun-shot was fired in Lincoln Island."

"And that a bullet," added Gideon Spilett, "wounded, though not mortally,
this little animal."

"That is unquestionable," said Cyrus Harding, "and these are the
deductions which must be drawn from this incident: that the island was
inhabited before our arrival, or that men have landed here within three
months. Did these men arrive here voluntarily or involuntarily, by
disembarking on the shore or by being wrecked? This point can only be
cleared up later. As to what they were, Europeans or Malays, enemies or
friends of our race, we cannot possibly guess; and if they still inhabit
the island, or if they have left it, we know not. But these questions are
of too much importance to be allowed to remain long unsettled."

"No! a hundred times no! a thousand times no!" cried the sailor, springing
up from the table. "There are no other men than ourselves on Lincoln
Island! By my faith! The island isn't large and if it had been inhabited,
we should have seen some of the inhabitants long before this!"

"In fact, the contrary would be very astonishing," said Herbert.

"But it would be much more astonishing, I should think," observed the
reporter, "if this peccary had been born with a bullet in its inside!"

"At least," said Neb seriously, "if Pencroft has not had—"

"Look here, Neb," burst out Pencroft. "Do you think I could have a bullet
in my jaw for five or six months without finding it out? Where could it be
hidden?" he asked, opening his mouth to show the two-and-thirty teeth with
which it was furnished. "Look well, Neb, and if you find one hollow tooth
in this set, I will let you pull out half a dozen!"

"Neb's supposition is certainly inadmissible," replied Harding, who,
notwithstanding the gravity of his thoughts, could not restrain a smile.
"It is certain that a gun has been fired in the island, within three
months at most. But I am inclined to think that the people who landed on
this coast were only here a very short time ago, or that they just touched
here; for if, when we surveyed the island from the summit of Mount
Franklin, it had been inhabited, we should have seen them or we should
have been seen ourselves. It is therefore, probable that within only a few
weeks castaways have been thrown by a storm on some part of the coast.
However that may be, it is of consequence to us to have this point
settled."

"I think that we should act with caution," said the reporter.

"Such is my advice," replied Cyrus Harding, "for it is to be feared that
Malay pirates have landed on the island!"

"Captain," asked the sailor, "would it not be a good plan, before setting
out, to build a canoe in which we could either ascend the river, or, if we
liked, coast round the inland? It will not do to be unprovided."

"Your idea is good, Pencroft," replied the engineer, "but we cannot wait
for that. It would take at least a month to build a boat."

"Yes, a real boat," replied the sailor; "but we do not want one for a sea
voyage, and in five days at the most, I will undertake to construct a
canoe fit to navigate the Mercy."

"Five days," cried Neb, "to build a boat?"

"Yes, Neb; a boat in the Indian fashion."

"Of wood?" asked the Negro, looking still unconvinced.

"Of wood," replied Pencroft, "or rather of bark. I repeat, captain, that
in five days the work will be finished!"

So, then, the island was, or had been, inhabited by others than the
settlers. Proved as it was by the incident of the bullet, it was hereafter
an unquestionable fact, and such a discovery could not but cause great
uneasiness among the colonists.

Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett, before sleeping, conversed long about
the matter. They asked themselves if by chance this incident might not
have some connection with the inexplicable way in which the engineer had
been saved, and the other peculiar circumstances which had struck them at
different times. However, Cyrus Harding, after having discussed the pros
and cons of the question, ended by saying,—

"In short, would you like to know my opinion, my dear Spilett?"

"Yes, Cyrus."

"Well, then, it is this: however minutely we explore the island, we shall
find nothing."

The next day Pencroft set to work. He did not mean to build a boat with
boards and planking, but simply a flat-bottomed canoe, which would be well
suited for navigating the Mercy—above all, for approaching its
source, where the water would naturally be shallow. Pieces of bark,
fastened one to the other, would form a light boat; and in case of natural
obstacles, which would render a portage necessary, it would be easily
carried. Pencroft intended to secure the pieces of bark by means of nails,
to insure the canoe being water-tight.

It was first necessary to select the trees which would afford a strong and
supple bark for the work. Now the last storm had brought down a number of
large birch-trees, the bark of which would be perfectly suited for their
purpose. Some of these trees lay on the ground, and they had only to be
barked, which was the most difficult thing of all, owing to the imperfect
tools which the settlers possessed. However, they overcame all
difficulties.

While the sailor, seconded by the engineer, thus occupied himself without
losing an hour, Gideon Spilett and Herbert were not idle.

They were made purveyors to the colony. The reporter could not but admire
the boy, who had acquired great skill in handling the bow and spear.
Herbert also showed great courage and much of that presence of mind which
may justly be called "the reasoning of bravery." These two companions of
the chase, remembering Cyrus Harding's recommendations, did not go beyond
a radius of two miles round Granite House; but the borders of the forest
furnished a sufficient tribute of agoutis, capybaras, kangaroos,
peccaries, etc.; and if the result from the traps was less than during the
cold, still the warren yielded its accustomed quota, which might have fed
all the colony in Lincoln Island.

Often during these excursions, Herbert talked with Gideon Spilett on the
incident of the bullet, and the deductions which the engineer drew from
it, and one day—it was the 26th of October—he said—"But,
Mr. Spilett, do you not think it very extraordinary that, if any castaways
have landed on the island, they have not yet shown themselves near Granite
House?"

"Very astonishing if they are still here," replied the reporter, "but not
astonishing at all if they are here no longer!"

"So you think that these people have already quitted the island?" returned
Herbert.

"It is more than probable, my boy; for if their stay was prolonged, and
above all, if they were still here, some accident would have at last
betrayed their presence."

"But if they were able to go away," observed the lad, "they could not have
been castaways."

"No, Herbert; or, at least, they were what might be called provisional
castaways. It is very possible that a storm may have driven them to the
island without destroying their vessel, and that, the storm over, they
went away again."

"I must acknowledge one thing," said Herbert, "it is that Captain Harding
appears rather to fear than desire the presence of human beings on our
island."

"In short," responded the reporter, "there are only Malays who frequent
these seas, and those fellows are ruffians which it is best to avoid."

"It is not impossible, Mr. Spilett," said Herbert, "that some day or other
we may find traces of their landing."

"I do not say no, my boy. A deserted camp, the ashes of a fire, would put
us on the track, and this is what we will look for in our next
expedition."

The day on which the hunters spoke thus, they were in a part of the forest
near the Mercy, remarkable for its beautiful trees. There, among others,
rose, to a height of nearly 200 feet above the ground, some of those
superb coniferae, to which, in New Zealand, the natives give the name of
Kauris.

"I have an idea, Mr. Spilett," said Herbert. "If I were to climb to the
top of one of these kauris, I could survey the country for an immense
distance round."

"The idea is good," replied the reporter; "but could you climb to the top
of those giants?"

"I can at least try," replied Herbert.

The light and active boy then sprang on the first branches, the
arrangement of which made the ascent of the kauri easy, and in a few
minutes he arrived at the summit, which emerged from the immense plain of
verdure.

From this elevated situation his gaze extended over all the southern
portion of the island, from Claw Cape on the southeast, to Reptile End on
the southwest. To the northwest rose Mount Franklin, which concealed a
great part of the horizon.

But Herbert, from the height of his observatory, could examine all the yet
unknown portion of the island, which might have given shelter to the
strangers whose presence they suspected.

The lad looked attentively. There was nothing in sight on the sea, not a
sail, neither on the horizon nor near the island. However, as the bank of
trees hid the shore, it was possible that a vessel, especially if deprived
of her masts, might lie close to the land and thus be invisible to
Herbert.

Neither in the forests of the Far West was anything to be seen. The wood
formed an impenetrable screen, measuring several square miles, without a
break or an opening. It was impossible even to follow the course of the
Mercy, or to ascertain in what part of the mountain it took its source.
Perhaps other creeks also ran towards the west, but they could not be
seen.

But at last, if all indication of an encampment escaped Herbert's sight
could he not even catch a glimpse of smoke, the faintest trace of which
would be easily discernible in the pure atmosphere?

For an instant Herbert thought he could perceive a slight smoke in the
west, but a more attentive examination showed that he was mistaken. He
strained his eyes in every direction, and his sight was excellent. No,
decidedly there was nothing there.

Herbert descended to the foot of the kauri, and the two sportsmen returned
to Granite House. There Cyrus Harding listened to the lad's account, shook
his head and said nothing. It was very evident that no decided opinion
could be pronounced on this question until after a complete exploration of
the island.

Two days after—the 28th of October—another incident occurred,
for which an explanation was again required.

While strolling along the shore about two miles from Granite House,
Herbert and Neb were fortunate enough to capture a magnificent specimen of
the order of chelonia. It was a turtle of the species Midas, the edible
green turtle, so called from the color both of its shell and fat.

Herbert caught sight of this turtle as it was crawling among the rocks to
reach the sea.

"Help, Neb, help!" he cried.

Neb ran up.

"What a fine animal!" said Neb; "but how are we to catch it?"

"Nothing is easier, Neb," replied Herbert. "We have only to turn the
turtle on its back, and it cannot possibly get away. Take your spear and
do as I do."

The reptile, aware of danger, had retired between its carapace and
plastron. They no longer saw its head or feet, and it was motionless as a
rock.

Herbert and Neb then drove their sticks underneath the animal, and by
their united efforts managed without difficulty to turn it on its back.
The turtle, which was three feet in length, would have weighed at least
four hundred pounds.

In fact, the heart of friend Pencroft could not fail to be rejoiced, for
the flesh of the turtle, which feeds on wrack-grass, is extremely savory.
At this moment the creature's head could be seen, which was small, flat,
but widened behind by the large temporal fossae hidden under the long
roof.

"And now, what shall we do with our prize?" said Neb. "We can't drag it to
Granite House!"

"Leave it here, since it cannot turn over," replied Herbert, "and we will
come back with the cart to fetch it."

"That is the best plan."

However, for greater precaution, Herbert took the trouble, which Neb
deemed superfluous, to wedge up the animal with great stones; after which
the two hunters returned to Granite House, following the beach, which the
tide had left uncovered. Herbert, wishing to surprise Pencroft, said
nothing about the "superb specimen of a chelonian" which they had turned
over on the sand; but, two hours later, he and Neb returned with the cart
to the place where they had left it. The "superb specimen of a chelonian"
was no longer there!

Neb and Herbert stared at each other first; then they stared about them.
It was just at this spot that the turtle had been left. The lad even found
the stones which he had used, and therefore he was certain of not being
mistaken.

"Well!" said Neb, "these beasts can turn themselves over, then?''

"It appears so," replied Herbert, who could not understand it at all, and
was gazing at the stones scattered on the sand.

"Well, Pencroft will be disgusted!"

"And Captain Harding will perhaps be very perplexed how to explain this
disappearance," thought Herbert.

"Look here," said Neb, who wished to hide his ill-luck, "we won't speak
about it."

"On the contrary, Neb, we must speak about it," replied Herbert.

And the two, taking the cart, which there was now no use for, returned to
Granite House.

Arrived at the dockyard, where the engineer and the sailor were working
together, Herbert recounted what had happened.

"But, Pencroft," replied Neb, "it wasn't our fault that the beast got
away; as I tell you, we had turned it over on its back!"

"Then you didn't turn it over enough!" returned the obstinate sailor.

"Not enough!" cried Herbert.

And he told how he had taken care to wedge up the turtle with stones.

"It is a miracle, then!" replied Pencroft.

"I thought, captain," said Herbert, "that turtles, once placed on their
backs, could not regain their feet, especially when they are of a large
size?'

"That is true, my boy," replied Cyrus Harding.

"Then how did it manage?"

"At what distance from the sea did you leave this turtle?" asked the
engineer, who, having suspended his work, was reflecting on this incident.

"Fifteen feet at the most," replied Herbert.

"And the tide was low at the time?"

"Yes, captain."

"Well," replied the engineer, "what the turtle could not do on the sand it
might have been able to do in the water. It turned over when the tide
overtook it, and then quietly returned to the deep sea."

"Oh! what stupids we were!" cried Neb.

"That is precisely what I had the honor of telling you before!" returned
the sailor.

Cyrus Harding had given this explanation, which, no doubt, was admissible.
But was he himself convinced of the accuracy of this explanation? It
cannot be said that he was.

Chapter 2

On the 9th of October the bark canoe was entirely finished. Pencroft had
kept his promise, and a light boat, the shell of which was joined together
by the flexible twigs of the crejimba, had been constructed in five days.
A seat in the stern, a second seat in the middle to preserve the
equilibrium, a third seat in the bows, rowlocks for the two oars, a scull
to steer with, completed the little craft, which was twelve feet long, and
did not weigh more than two hundred pounds. The operation of launching it
was extremely simple. The canoe was carried to the beach and laid on the
sand before Granite House, and the rising tide floated it. Pencroft, who
leaped in directly, maneuvered it with the scull and declared it to be
just the thing for the purpose to which they wished to put it.

"Hurrah!" cried the sailor, who did not disdain to celebrate thus his own
triumph. "With this we could go round—"

"The world?" asked Gideon Spilett.

"No, the island. Some stones for ballast, a mast and a sail, which the
captain will make for us some day, and we shall go splendidly! Well,
captain—and you, Mr. Spilett; and you, Herbert; and you, Neb—aren't
you coming to try our new vessel? Come along! we must see if it will carry
all five of us!"

This was certainly a trial which ought to be made. Pencroft soon brought
the canoe to the shore by a narrow passage among the rocks, and it was
agreed that they should make a trial of the boat that day by following the
shore as far as the first point at which the rocks of the south ended.

As they embarked, Neb cried,—

"But your boat leaks rather, Pencroft."

"That's nothing, Neb," replied the sailor; "the wood will get seasoned. In
two days there won't be a single leak, and our boat will have no more
water in her than there is in the stomach of a drunkard. Jump in!"

They were soon all seated, and Pencroft shoved off. The weather was
magnificent, the sea as calm as if its waters were contained within the
narrow limits of a lake. Thus the boat could proceed with as much security
as if it was ascending the tranquil current of the Mercy.

Neb took one of the oars, Herbert the other, and Pencroft remained in the
stern in order to use the scull.

The sailor first crossed the channel, and steered close to the southern
point of the islet. A light breeze blew from the south. No roughness was
found either in the channel or the green sea. A long swell, which the
canoe scarcely felt, as it was heavily laden, rolled regularly over the
surface of the water. They pulled out about half a mile distant from the
shore, that they might have a good view of Mount Franklin.

Pencroft afterwards returned towards the mouth of the river. The boat then
skirted the shore, which, extending to the extreme point, hid all Tadorn's
Fens.

This point, of which the distance was increased by the irregularity of the
coast, was nearly three miles from the Mercy. The settlers resolved to go
to its extremity, and only go beyond it as much as was necessary to take a
rapid survey of the coast as far as Claw Cape.

The canoe followed the windings of the shore, avoiding the rocks which
fringed it, and which the rising tide began to cover. The cliff gradually
sloped away from the mouth of the river to the point. This was formed of
granite rocks, capriciously distributed, very different from the cliff at
Prospect Heights, and of an extremely wild aspect. It might have been said
that an immense cartload of rocks had been emptied out there. There was no
vegetation on this sharp promontory, which projected two miles from the
forest, and it thus represented a giant's arm stretched out from a leafy
sleeve.

The canoe, impelled by the two oars, advanced without difficulty. Gideon
Spilett, pencil in one hand and notebook in the other, sketched the coast
in bold strokes. Neb, Herbert, and Pencroft chatted, while examining this
part of their domain, which was new to them, and, in proportion as the
canoe proceeded towards the south, the two Mandible Capes appeared to
move, and surround Union Bay more closely.

As to Cyrus Harding, he did not speak; he simply gazed, and by the
mistrust which his look expressed, it appeared that he was examining some
strange country.

In the meantime, after a voyage of three-quarters of an hour, the canoe
reached the extremity of the point, and Pencroft was preparing to return,
when Herbert, rising, pointed to a black object, saying,—

"What do I see down there on the beach?"

All eyes turned towards the point indicated.

"Why," said the reporter, "there is something. It looks like part of a
wreck half buried in the sand."

"Ah!" cried Pencroft, "I see what it is!"

"What?" asked Neb.

"Barrels, barrels, which perhaps are full," replied the sailor.

"Pull to the shore, Pencroft!" said Cyrus.

A few strokes of the oar brought the canoe into a little creek, and its
passengers leaped on shore.

Pencroft was not mistaken. Two barrels were there, half buried in the
sand, but still firmly attached to a large chest, which, sustained by
them, had floated to the moment when it stranded on the beach.

"There has been a wreck, then, in some part of the island," said Herbert.

"Evidently," replied Spilett.

"But what's in this chest?" cried Pencroft, with very natural impatience.
"What's in this chest? It is shut up, and nothing to open it with! Well,
perhaps a stone—"

And the sailor, raising a heavy block, was about to break in one of the
sides of the chest, when the engineer arrested his hand.

"Pencroft," said he, "can you restrain your impatience for one hour only?"

"But, captain, just think! Perhaps there is everything we want in there!"

"We shall find that out, Pencroft," replied the engineer; "but trust to
me, and do not break the chest, which may be useful to us. We must convey
it to Granite House, where we can open it easily, and without breaking it.
It is quite prepared for a voyage; and since it has floated here, it may
just as well float to the mouth of the river."

"You are right, captain, and I was wrong, as usual," replied the sailor.

The engineer's advice was good. In fact, the canoe probably would not have
been able to contain the articles possibly enclosed in the chest, which
doubtless was heavy, since two empty barrels were required to buoy it up.
It was, therefore, much better to tow it to the beach at Granite House.

And now, whence had this chest come? That was the important question.
Cyrus Harding and his companions looked attentively around them, and
examined the shore for several hundred steps. No other articles or pieces
of wreck could be found. Herbert and Neb climbed a high rock to survey the
sea, but there was nothing in sight—neither a dismasted vessel nor a
ship under sail.

However, there was no doubt that there had been a wreck. Perhaps this
incident was connected with that of the bullet? Perhaps strangers had
landed on another part of the island? Perhaps they were still there? But
the thought which came naturally to the settlers was, that these strangers
could not be Malay pirates, for the chest was evidently of American or
European make.

All the party returned to the chest, which was of an unusually large size.
It was made of oak wood, very carefully closed and covered with a thick
hide, which was secured by copper nails. The two great barrels,
hermetically sealed, but which sounded hollow and empty, were fastened to
its sides by strong ropes, knotted with a skill which Pencroft directly
pronounced sailors alone could exhibit. It appeared to be in a perfect
state of preservation, which was explained by the fact that it had
stranded on a sandy beach, and not among rocks. They had no doubt
whatever, on examining it carefully, that it had not been long in the
water, and that its arrival on this coast was recent. The water did not
appear to have penetrated to the inside, and the articles which it
contained were no doubt uninjured.

It was evident that this chest had been thrown overboard from some
dismasted vessel driven towards the island, and that, in the hope that it
would reach the land, where they might afterwards find it, the passengers
had taken the precaution to buoy it up by means of this floating
apparatus.

"We will tow this chest to Granite House," said the engineer, "where we
can make an inventory of its contents; then, if we discover any of the
survivors from the supposed wreck, we can return it to those to whom it
belongs. If we find no one—"

"We will keep it for ourselves!" cried Pencroft. "But what in the world
can there be in it?"

The sea was already approaching the chest, and the high tide would
evidently float it. One of the ropes which fastened the barrels was partly
unlashed and used as a cable to unite the floating apparatus with the
canoe. Pencroft and Neb then dug away the sand with their oars, so as to
facilitate the moving of the chest, towing which the boat soon began to
double the point, to which the name of Flotsam Point was given.

The chest was heavy, and the barrels were scarcely sufficient to keep it
above water. The sailor also feared every instant that it would get loose
and sink to the bottom of the sea. But happily his fears were not
realized, and an hour and a half after they set out—all that time
had been taken up in going a distance of three miles—the boat
touched the beach below Granite House.

Canoe and chest were then hauled up on the sands; and as the tide was then
going out, they were soon left high and dry. Neb, hurrying home, brought
back some tools with which to open the chest in such a way that it might
be injured as little as possible, and they proceeded to its inventory.
Pencroft did not try to hide that he was greatly excited.

The sailor began by detaching the two barrels, which, being in good
condition, would of course be of use. Then the locks were forced with a
cold chisel and hammer, and the lid thrown back. A second casing of zinc
lined the interior of the chest, which had been evidently arranged that
the articles which it enclosed might under any circumstances be sheltered
from damp.

"Oh!" cried Neb, "suppose it's jam!

"I hope not," replied the reporter.

"If only there was—" said the sailor in a low voice.

"What?" asked Neb, who overheard him.

"Nothing!"

The covering of zinc was torn off and thrown back over the sides of the
chest, and by degrees numerous articles of very varied character were
produced and strewn about on the sand. At each new object Pencroft uttered
fresh hurrahs, Herbert clapped his hands, and Neb danced up and down.
There were books which made Herbert wild with joy, and cooking utensils
which Neb covered with kisses!

"It must be allowed," said the reporter, after the inventory had been
made, "that the owner of this chest was a practical man! Tools, weapons,
instruments, clothes, utensils, books—nothing is wanting! It might
really be said that he expected to be wrecked, and had prepared for it
beforehand."

"Nothing is wanting, indeed," murmured Cyrus Harding thoughtfully.

"And for a certainty," added Herbert, "the vessel which carried this chest
and its owner was not a Malay pirate!"

"Unless," said Pencroft, "the owner had been taken prisoner by pirates—"

"That is not admissible," replied the reporter. "It is more probable that
an American or European vessel has been driven into this quarter, and that
her passengers, wishing to save necessaries at least, prepared this chest
and threw it overboard."

"Is that your opinion, captain?" asked Herbert.

"Yes, my boy," replied the engineer, "that may have been the case. It is
possible that at the moment, or in expectation of a wreck, they collected
into this chest different articles of the greatest use in hopes of finding
it again on the coast—"

"Even the photographic box!" exclaimed the sailor incredulously.

"As to that apparatus," replied Harding, "I do not quite see the use of
it; and a more complete supply of clothes or more abundant ammunition
would have been more valuable to us as well as to any other castaways!"

"But isn't there any mark or direction on these instruments, tools, or
books, which would tell us something about them?" asked Gideon Spilett.

That might be ascertained. Each article was carefully examined, especially
the books, instruments and weapons. Neither the weapons nor the
instruments, contrary to the usual custom, bore the name of the maker;
they were, besides, in a perfect state, and did not appear to have been
used. The same peculiarity marked the tools and utensils; all were new,
which proved that the articles had not been taken by chance and thrown
into the chest, but, on the contrary, that the choice of things had been
well considered and arranged with care. This was also indicated by the
second case of metal which had preserved them from damp, and which could
not have been soldered in a moment of haste.

As to the dictionaries of natural science and Polynesian idioms, both were
English; but they neither bore the name of the publisher nor the date of
publication.

The same with the Bible printed in English, in quarto, remarkable from a
typographic point of view, and which appeared to have been often used.

The atlas was a magnificent work, comprising maps of every country in the
world, and several planispheres arranged upon Mercator's projection, and
of which the nomenclature was in French—but which also bore neither
date nor name of publisher.

There was nothing, therefore, on these different articles by which they
could be traced, and nothing consequently of a nature to show the
nationality of the vessel which must have recently passed these shores.

But, wherever the chest might have come from, it was a treasure to the
settlers on Lincoln Island. Till then, by making use of the productions of
nature, they had created everything for themselves, and, thanks to their
intelligence, they had managed without difficulty. But did it not appear
as if Providence had wished to reward them by sending them these
productions of human industry? Their thanks rose unanimously to Heaven.

However, one of them was not quite satisfied: it was Pencroft. It appeared
that the chest did not contain something which he evidently held in great
esteem, for in proportion as they approached the bottom of the box, his
hurrahs diminished in heartiness, and, the inventory finished, he was
heard to mutter these words:—"That's all very fine, but you can see
that there is nothing for me in that box!"

This led Neb to say,—

"Why, friend Pencroft, what more do you expect?"

"Half a pound of tobacco," replied Pencroft seriously, "and nothing would
have been wanting to complete my happiness!"

No one could help laughing at this speech of the sailor's.

But the result of this discovery of the chest was, that it was now more
than ever necessary to explore the island thoroughly. It was therefore
agreed that the next morning at break of day, they should set out, by
ascending the Mercy so as to reach the western shore. If any castaways had
landed on the coast, it was to be feared they were without resources, and
it was therefore the more necessary to carry help to them without delay.

During the day the different articles were carried to Granite House, where
they were methodically arranged in the great hall. This day—the 29th
of October—happened to be a Sunday, and, before going to bed,
Herbert asked the engineer if he would not read them something from the
Gospel.

"Willingly," replied Cyrus Harding.

He took the sacred volume, and was about to open it, when Pencroft stopped
him, saying,—"Captain, I am superstitious. Open at random and read
the first verse which, your eye falls upon. We will see if it applies to
our situation."

Cyrus Harding smiled at the sailor's idea, and, yielding to his wish, he
opened exactly at a place where the leaves were separated by a marker.

Immediately his eyes were attracted by a cross which, made with a pencil,
was placed against the eighth verse of the seventh chapter of the Gospel
of St. Matthew. He read the verse, which was this:—

"For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth."

Chapter 3

The next day, the 30th of October, all was ready for the proposed
exploring expedition, which recent events had rendered so necessary. In
fact, things had so come about that the settlers in Lincoln Island no
longer needed help for themselves, but were even able to carry it to
others.

It was therefore agreed that they should ascend the Mercy as far as the
river was navigable. A great part of the distance would thus be traversed
without fatigue, and the explorers could transport their provisions and
arms to an advanced point in the west of the island.

It was necessary to think not only of the things which they should take
with them, but also of those which they might have by chance to bring back
to Granite House. If there had been a wreck on the coast, as was supposed,
there would be many things cast up, which would be lawfully their prizes.
In the event of this, the cart would have been of more use than the light
canoe, but it was heavy and clumsy to drag, and therefore more difficult
to use; this led Pencroft to express his regret that the chest had not
contained, besides "his halfpound of tobacco," a pair of strong New Jersey
horses, which would have been very useful to the colony!

The provisions, which Neb had already packed up, consisted of a store of
meat and of several gallons of beer, that is to say enough to sustain them
for three days, the time which Harding assigned for the expedition. They
hoped besides to supply themselves on the road, and Neb took care not to
forget the portable stove.

The only tools the settlers took were the two woodmen's axes, which they
could use to cut a path through the thick forests, as also the
instruments, the telescope and pocket-compass.

For weapons they selected the two flint-lock guns, which were likely to be
more useful to them than the percussion fowling-pieces, the first only
requiring flints which could be easily replaced, and the latter needing
fulminating caps, a frequent use of which would soon exhaust their limited
stock. However, they took also one of the carbines and some cartridges. As
to the powder, of which there was about fifty pounds in the barrel, a
small supply of it had to be taken, but the engineer hoped to manufacture
an explosive substance which would allow them to husband it. To the
firearms were added the five cutlasses well sheathed in leather, and, thus
supplied, the settlers could venture into the vast forest with some chance
of success.

It is useless to add that Pencroft, Herbert, and Neb, thus armed, were at
the summit of their happiness, although Cyrus Harding made them promise
not to fire a shot unless it was necessary.

At six in the morning the canoe put off from the shore; all had embarked,
including Top, and they proceeded to the mouth of the Mercy.

The tide had begun to come up half an hour before. For several hours,
therefore, there would be a current, which it was well to profit by, for
later the ebb would make it difficult to ascend the river. The tide was
already strong, for in three days the moon would be full, and it was
enough to keep the boat in the center of the current, where it floated
swiftly along between the high banks without its being necessary to
increase its speed by the aid of the oars. In a few minutes the explorers
arrived at the angle formed by the Mercy and exactly at the place where,
seven months before, Pencroft had made his first raft of wood.

After this sudden angle the river widened and flowed under the shade of
great evergreen firs.

The aspect of the banks was magnificent. Cyrus Harding and his companions
could not but admire the lovely effects so easily produced by nature with
water and trees. As they advanced the forest element diminished. On the
right bank of the river grew magnificent specimens of the ulmaceae tribe,
the precious elm, so valuable to builders, and which withstands well the
action of water. Then there were numerous groups belonging to the same
family, among others one in particular, the fruit of which produces a very
useful oil. Further on, Herbert remarked the lardizabala, a twining shrub
which, when bruised in water, furnishes excellent cordage; and two or
three ebony trees of a beautiful black, crossed with capricious veins.

From time to time, in certain places where the landing was easy, the canoe
was stopped, when Gideon Spilett, Herbert, and Pencroft, their guns in
their hands, and preceded by Top, jumped on shore. Without expecting game,
some useful plant might be met with, and the young naturalist was
delighted with discovering a sort of wild spinach, belonging to the order
of chenopodiaceae, and numerous specimens of cruciferae, belonging to the
cabbage tribe, which it would certainly be possible to cultivate by
transplanting. There were cresses, horseradish, turnips, and lastly,
little branching hairy stalks, scarcely more than three feet high, which
produced brownish grains.

"Do you know what this plant is?" asked Herbert of the sailor.

"Tobacco!" cried Pencroft, who evidently had never seen his favorite plant
except in the bowl of his pipe.

"No, Pencroft," replied Herbert; "this is not tobacco, it is mustard."

"Mustard be hanged!" returned the sailor; "but if by chance you happen to
come across a tobacco-plant, my boy, pray don't scorn that!"

"We shall find it some day!" said Gideon Spilett.

"Well!" exclaimed Pencroft, "when that day comes, I do not know what more
will be wanting in our island!"

These different plants, which had been carefully rooted up, were carried
to the canoe, where Cyrus Harding had remained buried in thought.

The reporter, Herbert, and Pencroft in this manner frequently disembarked,
sometimes on the right bank, sometimes on the left bank of the Mercy.

The latter was less abrupt, but the former more wooded. The engineer
ascertained by consulting his pocket-compass that the direction of the
river from the first turn was obviously southwest and northeast, and
nearly straight for a length of about three miles. But it was to be
supposed that this direction changed beyond that point, and that the Mercy
continued to the north-west, towards the spurs of Mount Franklin, among
which the river rose.

During one of these excursions, Gideon Spilett managed to get hold of two
couples of living gallinaceae. They were birds with long, thin beaks,
lengthened necks, short wings, and without any appearance of a tail.
Herbert rightly gave them the name of tinamous, and it was resolved that
they should be the first tenants of their future poultry-yard.

But till then the guns had not spoken, and the first report which awoke
the echoes of the forest of the Far West was provoked by the appearance of
a beautiful bird, resembling the kingfisher.

"I recognize him!" cried Pencroft, and it seemed as if his gun went off by
itself.

"What do you recognize?" asked the reporter.

"The bird which escaped us on our first excursion, and from which we gave
the name to that part of the forest."

"A jacamar!" cried Herbert.

It was indeed a jacamar, of which the plumage shines with a metallic
luster. A shot brought it to the ground, and Top carried it to the canoe.
At the same time half a dozen lories were brought down. The lory is of the
size of a pigeon, the plumage dashed with green, part of the wings
crimson, and its crest bordered with white. To the young boy belonged the
honor of this shot, and he was proud enough of it. Lories are better food
than the jacamar, the flesh of which is rather tough, but it was difficult
to persuade Pencroft that he had not killed the king of eatable birds. It
was ten o'clock in the morning when the canoe reached a second angle of
the Mercy, nearly five miles from its mouth. Here a halt was made for
breakfast under the shade of some splendid trees. The river still measured
from sixty to seventy feet in breadth, and its bed from five to six feet
in depth. The engineer had observed that it was increased by numerous
affluents, but they were unnavigable, being simply little streams. As to
the forest, including Jacamar Wood, as well as the forests of the Far
West, it extended as far as the eye could reach. In no place, either in
the depths of the forests or under the trees on the banks of the Mercy,
was the presence of man revealed. The explorers could not discover one
suspicious trace. It was evident that the woodman's axe had never touched
these trees, that the pioneer's knife had never severed the creepers
hanging from one trunk to another in the midst of tangled brushwood and
long grass. If castaways had landed on the island, they could not have yet
quitted the shore, and it was not in the woods that the survivors of the
supposed shipwreck should be sought.

The engineer therefore manifested some impatience to reach the western
coast of Lincoln Island, which was at least five miles distant according
to his estimation.

The voyage was continued, and as the Mercy appeared to flow not towards
the shore, but rather towards Mount Franklin, it was decided that they
should use the boat as long as there was enough water under its keel to
float it. It was both fatigue spared and time gained, for they would have
been obliged to cut a path through the thick wood with their axes. But
soon the flow completely failed them, either the tide was going down, and
it was about the hour, or it could no longer be felt at this distance from
the mouth of the Mercy. They had therefore to make use of the oars.
Herbert and Neb each took one, and Pencroft took the scull. The forest
soon became less dense, the trees grew further apart and often quite
isolated. But the further they were from each other the more magnificent
they appeared, profiting, as they did, by the free, pure air which
circulated around them.

What splendid specimens of the flora of this latitude! Certainly their
presence would have been enough for a botanist to name without hesitation
the parallel which traversed Lincoln Island.

"Eucalypti!" cried Herbert.

They were, in fact, those splendid trees, the giants of the extratropical
zone, the congeners of the Australian and New Zealand eucalyptus, both
situated under the same latitude as Lincoln Island. Some rose to a height
of two hundred feet. Their trunks at the base measured twenty feet in
circumference, and their bark was covered by a network of farrows
containing a red, sweet-smelling gum. Nothing is more wonderful or more
singular than those enormous specimens of the order of the myrtaceae, with
their leaves placed vertically and not horizontally, so that an edge and
not a surface looks upwards, the effect being that the sun's rays
penetrate more freely among the trees.

The ground at the foot of the eucalypti was carpeted with grass, and from
the bushes escaped flights of little birds, which glittered in the
sunlight like winged rubies.

"These are something like trees!" cried Neb; "but are they good for
anything?"

"Pooh!" replied Pencroft. "Of course there are vegetable giants as well as
human giants, and they are no good, except to show themselves at fairs!"

"I think that you are mistaken, Pencroft," replied Gideon Spilett, "and
that the wood of the eucalyptus has begun to be very advantageously
employed in cabinet-making."

"And I may add," said Herbert, "that the eucalyptus belongs to a family
which comprises many useful members; the guava-tree, from whose fruit
guava jelly is made; the clove-tree, which produces the spice; the
pomegranate-tree, which bears pomegranates; the Eugeacia Cauliflora, the
fruit of which is used in making a tolerable wine; the Ugui myrtle, which
contains an excellent alcoholic liquor; the Caryophyllus myrtle, of which
the bark forms an esteemed cinnamon; the Eugenia Pimenta, from whence
comes Jamaica pepper; the common myrtle, from whose buds and berries spice
is sometimes made; the Eucalyptus manifera, which yields a sweet sort of
manna; the Guinea Eucalyptus, the sap of which is transformed into beer by
fermentation; in short, all those trees known under the name of gum-trees
or iron-bark trees in Australia, belong to this family of the myrtaceae,
which contains forty-six genera and thirteen hundred species!"

The lad was allowed to run on, and he delivered his little botanical
lecture with great animation. Cyrus Harding listened smiling, and Pencroft
with an indescribable feeling of pride.

"Very good, Herbert," replied Pencroft, "but I could swear that all those
useful specimens you have just told us about are none of them giants like
these!"

"That is true, Pencroft."

"That supports what I said," returned the sailor, "namely, that these
giants are good for nothing!"

"There you are wrong, Pencroft," said the engineer; "these gigantic
eucalypti, which shelter us, are good for something."

"And what is that?"

"To render the countries which they inhabit healthy. Do you know what they
are called in Australia and New Zealand?"

"No, captain."

"They are called 'fever trees.'"

"Because they give fevers?"

"No, because they prevent them!"

"Good. I must note that," said the reporter.

"Note it then, my dear Spilett; for it appears proved that the presence of
the eucalyptus is enough to neutralize miasmas. This natural antidote has
been tried in certain countries in the middle of Europe and the north of
Africa where the soil was absolutely unhealthy, and the sanitary condition
of the inhabitants has been gradually ameliorated. No more intermittent
fevers prevail in the regions now covered with forests of the myrtaceae.
This fact is now beyond doubt, and it is a happy circumstance for us
settlers in Lincoln Island."

"Ah! what an island! What a blessed island!" cried Pencroft. "I tell you,
it wants nothing—unless it is—"

"That will come, Pencroft, that will be found," replied the engineer; "but
now we must continue our voyage and push on as far as the river will carry
our boat!"

The exploration was therefore continued for another two miles in the midst
of country covered with eucalypti, which predominated in the woods of this
portion of the island. The space which they occupied extended as far as
the eye could reach on each side of the Mercy, which wound along between
high green banks. The bed was often obstructed by long weeds, and even by
pointed rocks, which rendered the navigation very difficult. The action of
the oars was prevented, and Pencroft was obliged to push with a pole. They
found also that the water was becoming shallower and shallower, and that
the canoe must soon stop. The sun was already sinking towards the horizon,
and the trees threw long shadows on the ground. Cyrus Harding, seeing that
he could not hope to reach the western coast of the island in one journey,
resolved to camp at the place where any further navigation was prevented
by want of water. He calculated that they were still five or six miles
from the coast, and this distance was too great for them to attempt during
the night in the midst of unknown woods.

The boat was pushed on through the forest, which gradually became thicker
again, and appeared also to have more inhabitants; for if the eyes of the
sailor did not deceive him, he thought he saw bands of monkeys springing
among the trees. Sometimes even two or three of these animals stopped at a
little distance from the canoe and gazed at the settlers without
manifesting any terror, as if, seeing men for the first time, they had not
yet learned to fear them. It would have been easy to bring down one of
these quadramani with a gunshot, and Pencroft was greatly tempted to fire,
but Harding opposed so useless a massacre. This was prudent, for the
monkeys, or apes rather, appearing to be very powerful and extremely
active, it was useless to provoke an unnecessary aggression, and the
creatures might, ignorant of the power of the explorers' firearms, have
attacked them. It is true that the sailor considered the monkeys from a
purely alimentary point of view, for those animals which are herbivorous
make very excellent game; but since they had an abundant supply of
provisions, it was a pity to waste their ammunition.

Towards four o'clock, the navigation of the Mercy became exceedingly
difficult, for its course was obstructed by aquatic plants and rocks. The
banks rose higher and higher, and already they were approaching the spurs
of Mount Franklin. The source could not be far off, since it was fed by
the water from the southern slopes of the mountain.

"In a quarter of an hour," said the sailor, "we shall be obliged to stop,
captain."

"Very well, we will stop, Pencroft, and we will make our encampment for
the night."

"At what distance are we from Granite House?" asked Herbert.

"About seven miles," replied the engineer, "taking into calculation,
however, the detours of the river, which has carried us to the northwest."

"Shall we go on?" asked the reporter.

"Yes, as long as we can," replied Cyrus Harding. "To-morrow, at break of
day, we will leave the canoe, and in two hours I hope we shall cross the
distance which separates us from the coast, and then we shall have the
whole day in which to explore the shore."

"Go ahead!" replied Pencroft.

But soon the boat grated on the stony bottom of the river, which was now
not more than twenty feet in breadth. The trees met like a bower overhead,
and caused a half-darkness. They also heard the noise of a waterfall,
which showed that a few hundred feet up the river there was a natural
barrier.

Presently, after a sudden turn of the river, a cascade appeared through
the trees. The canoe again touched the bottom, and in a few minutes it was
moored to a trunk near the right bank.

It was nearly five o'clock. The last rays of the sun gleamed through the
thick foliage and glanced on the little waterfall, making the spray
sparkle with all the colors of the rainbow. Beyond that, the Mercy was
lost in the bushwood, where it was fed from some hidden source. The
different streams which flowed into it increased it to a regular river
further down, but here it was simply a shallow, limpid brook.

It was agreed to camp here, as the place was charming. The colonists
disembarked, and a fire was soon lighted under a clump of trees, among the
branches of which Cyrus Harding and his companions could, if it was
necessary, take refuge for the night.

Supper was quickly devoured, for they were very hungry, and then there was
only sleeping to think of. But, as roarings of rather a suspicious nature
had been heard during the evening, a good fire was made up for the night,
so as to protect the sleepers with its crackling flames. Neb and Pencroft
also watched by turns, and did not spare fuel. They thought they saw the
dark forms of some wild animals prowling round the camp among the bushes,
but the night passed without incident, and the next day, the 31st of
October, at five o'clock in the morning, all were on foot, ready for a
start.

Chapter 4

It was six o' clock in the morning when the settlers, after a hasty
breakfast, set out to reach by the shortest way, the western coast of the
island. And how long would it take to do this? Cyrus Harding had said two
hours, but of course that depended on the nature of the obstacles they
might meet with. As it was probable that they would have to cut a path
through the grass, shrubs, and creepers, they marched axe in hand, and
with guns also ready, wisely taking warning from the cries of the wild
beasts heard in the night.

The exact position of the encampment could be determined by the bearing of
Mount Franklin, and as the volcano arose in the north at a distance of
less than three miles, they had only to go straight towards the southwest
to reach the western coast. They set out, having first carefully secured
the canoe. Pencroft and Neb carried sufficient provision for the little
band for at least two days. It would not thus be necessary to hunt. The
engineer advised his companions to refrain from firing, that their
presence might not be betrayed to any one near the shore. The first
hatchet blows were given among the brushwood in the midst of some
mastic-trees, a little above the cascade; and his compass in his hand,
Cyrus Harding led the way.

The forest here was composed for the most part of trees which had already
been met with near the lake and on Prospect Heights. There were deodars,
Douglas firs, casuarinas, gum trees, eucalypti, hibiscus, cedars, and
other trees, generally of a moderate size, for their number prevented
their growth.

Since their departure, the settlers had descended the slopes which
constituted the mountain system of the island, on to a dry soil, but the
luxuriant vegetation of which indicated it to be watered either by some
subterranean marsh or by some stream. However, Cyrus Harding did not
remember having seen, at the time of his excursion to the crater, any
other watercourses but the Red Creek and the Mercy.

During the first part of their excursion, they saw numerous troops of
monkeys who exhibited great astonishment at the sight of men, whose
appearance was so new to them. Gideon Spilett jokingly asked whether these
active and merry quadrupeds did not consider him and his companions as
degenerate brothers.

And certainly, pedestrians, hindered at each step by bushes, caught by
creepers, barred by trunks of trees, did not shine beside those supple
animals, who, bounding from branch to branch, were hindered by nothing on
their course. The monkeys were numerous, but happily they did not manifest
any hostile disposition.

Several pigs, agoutis, kangaroos, and other rodents were seen, also two or
three koalas, at which Pencroft longed to have a shot.

"But," said he, "you may jump and play just now; we shall have one or two
words to say to you on our way back!"

At half-past nine the way was suddenly found to be barred by an unknown
stream, from thirty to forty feet broad, whose rapid current dashed
foaming over the numerous rocks which interrupted its course. This creek
was deep and clear, but it was absolutely unnavigable.

"We are cut off!" cried Neb.

"No," replied Herbert, "it is only a stream, and we can easily swim over."

"What would be the use of that?" returned Harding. "This creek evidently
runs to the sea. Let us remain on this side and follow the bank, and I
shall be much astonished if it does not lead us very quickly to the coast.
Forward!"

"One minute," said the reporter. "The name of this creek, my friends? Do
not let us leave our geography incomplete."

"All right!" said Pencroft.

"Name it, my boy," said the engineer, addressing the lad.

"Will it not be better to wait until we have explored it to its mouth?"
answered Herbert.

"Very well," replied Cyrus Harding. "Let us follow it as fast as we can
without stopping."

"Still another minute!" said Pencroft.

"What's the matter?" asked the reporter.

"Though hunting is forbidden, fishing is allowed, I suppose," said the
sailor.

"We have no time to lose," replied the engineer.

"Oh! five minutes!" replied Pencroft, "I only ask for five minutes to use
in the interest of our breakfast!"

And Pencroft, lying down on the bank, plunged his arm into the water, and
soon pulled up several dozen of fine crayfish from among the stones.

"These will be good!" cried Neb, going to the sailor's aid.

"As I said, there is everything in this island, except tobacco!" muttered
Pencroft with a sigh.

The fishing did not take five minutes, for the crayfish were swarming in
the creek. A bag was filled with the crustaceae, whose shells were of a
cobalt blue. The settlers then pushed on.

They advanced more rapidly and easily along the bank of the river than in
the forest. From time to time they came upon the traces of animals of a
large size who had come to quench their thirst at the stream, but none
were actually seen, and it was evidently not in this part of the forest
that the peccary had received the bullet which had cost Pencroft a
grinder.

In the meanwhile, considering the rapid current, Harding was led to
suppose that he and his companions were much farther from the western
coast than they had at first supposed. In fact, at this hour, the rising
tide would have turned back the current of the creek, if its mouth had
only been a few miles distant. Now, this effect was not produced, and the
water pursued its natural course. The engineer was much astonished at
this, and frequently consulted his compass, to assure himself that some
turn of the river was not leading them again into the Far West.

However, the creek gradually widened and its waters became less
tumultuous. The trees on the right bank were as close together as on the
left bank, and it was impossible to distinguish anything beyond them; but
these masses of wood were evidently uninhabited, for Top did not bark, and
the intelligent animal would not have failed to signal the presence of any
stranger in the neighborhood.

At half-past ten, to the great surprise of Cyrus Harding, Herbert, who was
a little in front, suddenly stopped and exclaimed,—

"The sea!"

In a few minutes more, the whole western shore of the island lay extended
before the eyes of the settlers.

But what a contrast between this and the eastern coast, upon which chance
had first thrown them. No granite cliff, no rocks, not even a sandy beach.
The forest reached the shore, and the tall trees bending over the water
were beaten by the waves. It was not such a shore as is usually formed by
nature, either by extending a vast carpet of sand, or by grouping masses
of rock, but a beautiful border consisting of the most splendid trees. The
bank was raised a little above the level of the sea, and on this luxuriant
soil, supported by a granite base, the fine forest trees seemed to be as
firmly planted as in the interior of the island.

The colonists were then on the shore of an unimportant little harbor,
which would scarcely have contained even two or three fishing-boats. It
served as a neck to the new creek, of which the curious thing was that its
waters, instead of joining the sea by a gentle slope, fell from a height
of more than forty feet, which explained why the rising tide was not felt
up the stream. In fact, the tides of the Pacific, even at their maximum
elevation, could never reach the level of the river, and, doubtless,
millions of years would pass before the water would have worn away the
granite and hollowed a practicable mouth.

It was settled that the name of Falls River should be given to this
stream. Beyond, towards the north, the forest border was prolonged for a
space of nearly two miles; then the trees became scarcer, and beyond that
again the picturesque heights described a nearly straight line, which ran
north and south. On the contrary, all the part of the shore between Falls
River and Reptile End was a mass of wood, magnificent trees, some
straight, others bent, so that the long sea-swell bathed their roots. Now,
it was this coast, that is, all the Serpentine Peninsula, that was to be
explored, for this part of the shore offered a refuge to castaways, which
the other wild and barren side must have refused.

The weather was fine and clear, and from a height of a hillock on which
Neb and Pencroft had arranged breakfast, a wide view was obtained. There
was, however, not a sail in sight; nothing could be seen along the shore
as far as the eye could reach. But the engineer would take nothing for
granted until he had explored the coast to the very extremity of the
Serpentine Peninsula.

Breakfast was soon despatched, and at half-past eleven the captain gave
the signal for departure. Instead of proceeding over the summit of a cliff
or along a sandy beach, the settlers were obliged to remain under cover of
the trees so that they might continue on the shore.

The distance which separated Falls River from Reptile End was about twelve
miles. It would have taken the settlers four hours to do this, on a clear
ground and without hurrying themselves; but as it was they needed double
the time, for what with trees to go round, bushes to cut down, and
creepers to chop away, they were impeded at every step, these obstacles
greatly lengthening their journey.

There was, however, nothing to show that a shipwreck had taken place
recently. It is true that, as Gideon Spilett observed, any remains of it
might have drifted out to sea, and they must not take it for granted that
because they could find no traces of it, a ship had not been castaway on
the coast.

The reporter's argument was just, and besides, the incident of the bullet
proved that a shot must have been fired in Lincoln Island within three
months.

It was already five o'clock, and there were still two miles between the
settlers and the extremity of the Serpentine Peninsula. It was evident
that after having reached Reptile End, Harding and his companions would
not have time to return before dark to their encampment near the source of
the Mercy. It would therefore be necessary to pass the night on the
promontory. But they had no lack of provisions, which was lucky, for there
were no animals on the shore, though birds, on the contrary, abound—jacamars,
couroucous, tragopans, grouse, lories, parrots, cockatoos, pheasants,
pigeons, and a hundred others. There was not a tree without a nest, and
not a nest which was not full of flapping wings.

Towards seven o'clock the weary explorers arrived at Reptile End. Here the
seaside forest ended, and the shore resumed the customary appearance of a
coast, with rocks, reefs, and sands. It was possible that something might
be found here, but darkness came on, and the further exploration had to be
put off to the next day.

Pencroft and Herbert hastened on to find a suitable place for their camp.
Among the last trees of the forest of the Far West, the boy found several
thick clumps of bamboos.

"Good," said he; "this is a valuable discovery."

"Valuable?" returned Pencroft.

"Certainly," replied Herbert. "I may say, Pencroft, that the bark of the
bamboo, cut into flexible laths, is used for making baskets; that this
bark, mashed into a paste, is used for the manufacture of Chinese paper;
that the stalks furnish, according to their size, canes and pipes and are
used for conducting water; that large bamboos make excellent material for
building, being light and strong, and being never attacked by insects. I
will add that by sawing the bamboo in two at the joint, keeping for the
bottom the part of the transverse film which forms the joint, useful cups
are obtained, which are much in use among the Chinese. No! you don't care
for that. But—"

"But what?"

"But I can tell you, if you are ignorant of it, that in India these
bamboos are eaten like asparagus."

"Excellent," replied Herbert. "Only it is not the stems of thirty feet
high which are eaten, but the young shoots."

"Perfect, my boy, perfect!" replied Pencroft.

"I will also add that the pith of the young stalks, preserved in vinegar,
makes a good pickle."

"Better and better, Herbert!"

"And lastly, that the bamboos exude a sweet liquor which can be made into
a very agreeable drink."

"Is that all?" asked the sailor.

"That is all!"

"And they don't happen to do for smoking?"

"No, my poor Pencroft."

Herbert and the sailor had not to look long for a place in which to pass
the night. The rocks, which must have been violently beaten by the sea
under the influence of the winds of the southwest, presented many cavities
in which shelter could be found against the night air. But just as they
were about to enter one of these caves a loud roaring arrested them.

"Back!" cried Pencroft. "Our guns are only loaded with small shot, and
beasts which can roar as loud as that would care no more for it than for
grains of salt!" And the sailor, seizing Herbert by the arm, dragged him
behind a rock, just as a magnificent animal showed itself at the entrance
of the cavern.

It was a jaguar of a size at least equal to its Asiatic congeners, that is
to say, it measured five feet from the extremity of its head to the
beginning of its tail. The yellow color of its hair was relieved by
streaks and regular oblong spots of black, which contrasted with the white
of its chest. Herbert recognized it as the ferocious rival of the tiger,
as formidable as the puma, which is the rival of the largest wolf!

The jaguar advanced and gazed around him with blazing eyes, his hair
bristling as if this was not the first time he had scented men.

At this moment the reporter appeared round a rock, and Herbert, thinking
that he had not seen the jaguar, was about to rush towards him, when
Gideon Spilett signed to him to remain where he was. This was not his
first tiger, and advancing to within ten feet of the animal he remained
motionless, his gun to his shoulder, without moving a muscle. The jaguar
collected itself for a spring, but at that moment a shot struck it in the
eyes, and it fell dead.

Herbert and Pencroft rushed towards the jaguar. Neb and Harding also ran
up, and they remained for some instants contemplating the animal as it lay
stretched on the ground, thinking that its magnificent skin would be a
great ornament to the hall at Granite House.

"Oh, Mr. Spilett, how I admire and envy you!" cried Herbert, in a fit of
very natural enthusiasm.

"Well, my boy," replied the reporter, "you could have done the same."

"I! with such coolness!—"

"Imagine to yourself, Herbert, that the jaguar is only a hare, and you
would fire as quietly as possible."

"That is," rejoined Pencroft, "that it is not more dangerous than a hare!"

"And now," said Gideon Spilett, "since the jaguar has left its abode, I do
not see, my friends, why we should not take possession of it for the
night."

"But others may come," said Pencroft.

"It will be enough to light a fire at the entrance of the cavern," said
the reporter, "and no wild beasts will dare to cross the threshold."

"Into the jaguar's house, then!" replied the sailor, dragging after him
the body of the animal.

While Neb skinned the jaguar, his companions collected an abundant supply
of dry wood from the forest, which they heaped up at the cave.

Cyrus Harding, seeing the clump of bamboos, cut a quantity, which he
mingled with the other fuel.

This done, they entered the grotto, of which the floor was strewn with
bones, the guns were carefully loaded, in case of a sudden attack, they
had supper, and then just before they lay down to rest, the heap of wood
piled at the entrance was set fire to. Immediately, a regular explosion,
or rather a series of reports, broke the silence! The noise was caused by
the bamboos, which, as the flames reached them, exploded like fireworks.
The noise was enough to terrify even the boldest of wild beasts.

It was not the engineer who had invented this way of causing loud
explosions, for, according to Marco Polo, the Tartars have employed it for
many centuries to drive away from their encampments the formidable wild
beasts of Central Asia.

Chapter 5

Cyrus Harding and his companions slept like innocent marmots in the cave
which the jaguar had so politely left at their disposal.

At sunrise all were on the shore at the extremity of the promontory, and
their gaze was directed towards the horizon, of which two-thirds of the
circumference were visible. For the last time the engineer could ascertain
that not a sail nor the wreck of a ship was on the sea, and even with the
telescope nothing suspicious could be discovered.

There was nothing either on the shore, at least, in the straight line of
three miles which formed the south side of the promontory, for beyond
that, rising ground had the rest of the coast, and even from the extremity
of the Serpentine Peninsula Claw Cape could not be seen.

The southern coast of the island still remained to be explored. Now should
they undertake it immediately, and devote this day to it?

This was not included in their first plan. In fact, when the boat was
abandoned at the sources of the Mercy, it had been agreed that after
having surveyed the west coast, they should go back to it, and return to
Granite House by the Mercy. Harding then thought that the western coast
would have offered refuge, either to a ship in distress, or to a vessel in
her regular course; but now, as he saw that this coast presented no good
anchorage, he wished to seek on the south what they had not been able to
find on the west.

Gideon Spilett proposed to continue the exploration, that the question of
the supposed wreck might be completely settled, and he asked at what
distance Claw Cape might be from the extremity of the peninsula.

"About thirty miles," replied the engineer, "if we take into consideration
the curvings of the coast."

"Thirty miles!" returned Spilett. "That would be a long day's march.
Nevertheless, I think that we should return to Granite House by the south
coast."

"But," observed Herbert, "from Claw Cape to Granite House there must be at
least another ten miles.

"Make it forty miles in all," replied the engineer, "and do not hesitate
to do it. At least we should survey the unknown shore, and then we shall
not have to begin the exploration again."

"Very good," said Pencroft. "But the boat?"

"The boat has remained by itself for one day at the sources of the Mercy,"
replied Gideon Spilett; "it may just as well stay there two days! As yet,
we have had no reason to think that the island is infested by thieves!"

"Yet," said the sailor, "when I remember the history of the turtle, I am
far from confident of that."

"The turtle! the turtle!" replied the reporter. "Don't you know that the
sea turned it over?"

"Who knows?" murmured the engineer.

"But,—" said Neb.

Neb had evidently something to say, for he opened his mouth to speak and
yet said nothing.

"What do you want to say, Neb?" asked the engineer.

"If we return by the shore to Claw Cape," replied Neb, "after having
doubled the Cape, we shall be stopped—"

"By the Mercy! of course," replied Herbert, "and we shall have neither
bridge nor boat by which to cross."

"But, captain," added Pencroft, "with a few floating trunks we shall have
no difficulty in crossing the river."

"Never mind," said Spilett, "it will be useful to construct a bridge if we
wish to have an easy access to the Far West!"

"A bridge!" cried Pencroft. "Well, is not the captain the best engineer in
his profession? He will make us a bridge when we want one. As to
transporting you this evening to the other side of the Mercy, and that
without wetting one thread of your clothes, I will take care of that. We
have provisions for another day, and besides we can get plenty of game.
Forward!"

The reporter's proposal, so strongly seconded by the sailor, received
general approbation, for each wished to have their doubts set at rest, and
by returning by Claw Cape the exploration would be ended. But there was
not an hour to lose, for forty miles was a long march, and they could not
hope to reach Granite House before night.

At six o'clock in the morning the little band set out. As a precaution the
guns were loaded with ball, and Top, who led the van, received orders to
beat about the edge of the forest.

From the extremity of the promontory which formed the tail of the
peninsula the coast was rounded for a distance of five miles, which was
rapidly passed over, without even the most minute investigations bringing
to light the least trace of any old or recent landings; no debris, no mark
of an encampment, no cinders of a fire, nor even a footprint!

From the point of the peninsula on which the settlers now were their gaze
could extend along the southwest. Twenty-five miles off the coast
terminated in the Claw Cape, which loomed dimly through the morning mists,
and which, by the phenomenon of the mirage, appeared as if suspended
between land and water.

Between the place occupied by the colonists and the other side of the
immense bay, the shore was composed, first, of a tract of low land,
bordered in the background by trees; then the shore became more irregular,
projecting sharp points into the sea, and finally ended in the black rocks
which, accumulated in picturesque disorder, formed Claw Cape.

Such was the development of this part of the island, which the settlers
took in at a glance, while stopping for an instant.

"If a vessel ran in here," said Pencroft, "she would certainly be lost.
Sandbanks and reefs everywhere! Bad quarters!"

"But at least something would be left of the ship," observed the reporter.

"There might be pieces of wood on the rocks, but nothing on the sands,"
replied the sailor.

"Why?"

"Because the sands are still more dangerous than the rocks, for they
swallow up everything that is thrown on them. In a few days the hull of a
ship of several hundred tons would disappear entirely in there!"

"So, Pencroft," asked the engineer, "if a ship has been wrecked on these
banks, is it not astonishing that there is now no trace of her remaining?"

"No, captain, with the aid of time and tempest. However, it would be
surprising, even in this case, that some of the masts or spars should not
have been thrown on the beach, out of reach of the waves."

"Let us go on with our search, then," returned Cyrus Harding.

At one o'clock the colonists arrived at the other side of Washington Bay,
they having now gone a distance of twenty miles.

They then halted for breakfast.

Here began the irregular coast, covered with lines of rocks and sandbanks.
The long sea-swell could be seen breaking over the rocks in the bay,
forming a foamy fringe. From this point to Claw Cape the beach was very
narrow between the edge of the forest and the reefs.

Walking was now more difficult, on account of the numerous rocks which
encumbered the beach. The granite cliff also gradually increased in
height, and only the green tops of the trees which crowned it could be
seen.

After half an hour's rest, the settlers resumed their journey, and not a
spot among the rocks was left unexamined. Pencroft and Neb even rushed
into the surf whenever any object attracted their attention. But they
found nothing, some curious formations of the rocks having deceived them.
They ascertained, however, that eatable shellfish abounded there, but
these could not be of any great advantage to them until some easy means of
communication had been established between the two banks of the Mercy, and
until the means of transport had been perfected.

Nothing therefore which threw any light on the supposed wreck could be
found on this shore, yet an object of any importance, such as the hull of
a ship, would have been seen directly, or any of her masts and spars would
have been washed on shore, just as the chest had been, which was found
twenty miles from here. But there was nothing.

Towards three o'clock Harding and his companions arrived at a snug little
creek. It formed quite a natural harbor, invisible from the sea, and was
entered by a narrow channel.

At the back of this creek some violent convulsion had torn up the rocky
border, and a cutting, by a gentle slope, gave access to an upper plateau,
which might be situated at least ten miles from Claw Cape, and
consequently four miles in a straight line from Prospect Heights. Gideon
Spilett proposed to his companions that they should make a halt here. They
agreed readily, for their walk had sharpened their appetites; and although
it was not their usual dinner-hour, no one refused to strengthen himself
with a piece of venison. This luncheon would sustain them until their
supper, which they intended to take at Granite House. In a few minutes the
settlers, seated under a clump of fine sea-pines, were devouring the
provisions which Neb produced from his bag.

This spot was raised from fifty to sixty feet above the level of the sea.
The view was very extensive, but beyond the cape it ended in Union Bay.
Neither the islet nor Prospect Heights was visible, and could not be from
thence, for the rising ground and the curtain of trees closed the northern
horizon.

It is useless to add that notwithstanding the wide extent of sea which the
explorers could survey, and though the engineer swept the horizon with his
glass, no vessel could be found.

The shore was of course examined with the same care from the edge of the
water to the cliff, and nothing could be discovered even with the aid of
the instrument.

"Well," said Gideon Spilett, "it seems we must make up our minds to
console ourselves with thinking that no one will come to dispute with us
the possession of Lincoln Island!"

"But the bullet," cried Herbert. "That was not imaginary, I suppose!"

"Hang it, no!" exclaimed Pencroft, thinking of his absent tooth.

"Then what conclusion may be drawn?" asked the reporter.

"This," replied the engineer, "that three months or more ago, a vessel,
either voluntarily or not, came here."

"What! then you admit, Cyrus, that she was swallowed up without leaving
any trace?" cried the reporter.

"No, my dear Spilett; but you see that if it is certain that a human being
set foot on the island, it appears no less certain that he has now left
it."

"Then, if I understand you right, captain," said Herbert, "the vessel has
left again?"

"Evidently."

"And we have lost an opportunity to get back to our country?" said Neb.

"I fear so."

"Very well, since the opportunity is lost, let us go on; it can't be
helped," said Pencroft, who felt home-sickness for Granite House.

But just as they were rising, Top was heard loudly barking; and the dog
issued from the wood, holding in his mouth a rag soiled with mud.

Neb seized it. It was a piece of strong cloth!

Top still barked, and by his going and coming, seemed to invite his master
to follow him into the forest.

"Now there's something to explain the bullet!" exclaimed Pencroft.

"A castaway!" replied Herbert.

"Wounded, perhaps!" said Neb.

"Or dead!" added the reporter.

All ran after the dog, among the tall pines on the border of the forest.
Harding and his companions made ready their firearms, in case of an
emergency.

They advanced some way into the wood, but to their great disappointment,
they as yet saw no signs of any human being having passed that way. Shrubs
and creepers were uninjured, and they had even to cut them away with the
axe, as they had done in the deepest recesses of the forest. It was
difficult to fancy that any human creature had ever passed there, but yet
Top went backward and forward, not like a dog who searches at random, but
like a dog being endowed with a mind, who is following up an idea.

In about seven or eight minutes Top stopped in a glade surrounded with
tall trees. The settlers gazed around them, but saw nothing, neither under
the bushes nor among the trees.

"What is the matter, Top?" said Cyrus Harding.

Top barked louder, bounding about at the foot of a gigantic pine. All at
once Pencroft shouted,—"Ho, splendid! capital!"

"What is it?" asked Spilett.

"We have been looking for a wreck at sea or on land!"

"Well?"

"Well; and here we've found one in the air!"

And the sailor pointed to a great white rag, caught in the top of the
pine, a fallen scrap of which the dog had brought to them.

"But that is not a wreck!" cried Gideon Spilett.

"I beg your pardon!" returned Pencroft.

"Why? is it—?"

"It is all that remains of our airy boat, of our balloon, which has been
caught up aloft there, at the top of that tree!"

Pencroft was not mistaken, and he gave vent to his feelings in a
tremendous hurrah, adding,—

"There is good cloth! There is what will furnish us with linen for years.
There is what will make us handkerchiefs and shirts! Ha, ha, Mr. Spilett,
what do you say to an island where shirts grow on the trees?"

It was certainly a lucky circumstance for the settlers in Lincoln Island
that the balloon, after having made its last bound into the air, had
fallen on the island and thus given them the opportunity of finding it
again, whether they kept the case under its present form, or whether they
wished to attempt another escape by it, or whether they usefully employed
the several hundred yards of cotton, which was of fine quality. Pencroft's
joy was therefore shared by all.

But it was necessary to bring down the remains of the balloon from the
tree, to place it in security, and this was no slight task. Neb, Herbert,
and the sailor, climbing to the summit of the tree, used all their skill
to disengage the now reduced balloon.

The operation lasted two hours, and then not only the case, with its
valve, its springs, its brasswork, lay on the ground, but the net, that is
to say a considerable quantity of ropes and cordage, and the circle and
the anchor. The case, except for the fracture, was in good condition, only
the lower portion being torn.

It was a fortune which had fallen from the sky.

"All the same, captain," said the sailor, "if we ever decide to leave the
island, it won't be in a balloon, will it? These airboats won't go where
we want them to go, and we have had some experience in that way! Look
here, we will build a craft of some twenty tons, and then we can make a
main-sail, a foresail, and a jib out of that cloth. As to the rest of it,
that will help to dress us."

"We shall see, Pencroft," replied Cyrus Harding; "we shall see."

"In the meantime, we must put it in a safe place," said Neb.

They certainly could not think of carrying this load of cloth, ropes, and
cordage, to Granite House, for the weight of it was very considerable, and
while waiting for a suitable vehicle in which to convey it, it was of
importance that this treasure should not be left longer exposed to the
mercies of the first storm. The settlers, uniting their efforts, managed
to drag it as far as the shore, where they discovered a large rocky
cavity, which owing to its position could not be visited either by the
wind or rain.

"We needed a locker, and now we have one," said Pencroft; "but as we
cannot lock it up, it will be prudent to hide the opening. I don't mean
from two-legged thieves, but from those with four paws!"

At six o'clock, all was stowed away, and after having given the creek the
very suitable name of "Port Balloon," the settlers pursued their way along
Claw Cape. Pencroft and the engineer talked of the different projects
which it was agreed to put into execution with the briefest possible
delay. It was necessary first of all to throw a bridge over the Mercy, so
as to establish an easy communication with the south of the island; then
the cart must be taken to bring back the balloon, for the canoe alone
could not carry it, then they would build a decked boat, and Pencroft
would rig it as a cutter, and they would be able to undertake voyages of
circumnavigation round the island, etc.

In the meanwhile night came on, and it was already dark when the settlers
reached Flotsam Point, where they had found the precious chest.

The distance between Flotsam Point and Granite House was another four
miles, and it was midnight when, after having followed the shore to the
mouth of the Mercy, the settlers arrived at the first angle formed by the
Mercy.

There the river was eighty feet in breadth, which was awkward to cross,
but as Pencroft had taken upon himself to conquer this difficulty, he was
compelled to do it. The settlers certainly had reason to be pretty tired.
The journey had been long, and the task of getting down the balloon had
not rested either their arms or legs. They were anxious to reach Granite
House to eat and sleep, and if the bridge had been constructed, in a
quarter of an hour they would have been at home.

The night was very dark. Pencroft prepared to keep his promise by
constructing a sort of raft, on which to make the passage of the Mercy. He
and Neb, armed with axes, chose two trees near the water, and began to
attack them at the base.

Cyrus Harding and Spilett, seated on the bank, waited till their
companions were ready for their help, while Herbert roamed about, though
without going to any distance. All at once, the lad, who had strolled by
the river, came running back, and, pointing up the Mercy, exclaimed,—

"What is floating there?"

Pencroft stopped working, and seeing an indistinct object moving through
the gloom,—

"A canoe!" cried he.

All approached, and saw to their extreme surprise, a boat floating down
the current.

"Boat ahoy!" shouted the sailor, without thinking that perhaps it would be
best to keep silence.

No reply. The boat still drifted onward, and it was not more than twelve
feet off, when the sailor exclaimed,—

"But it is our own boat! she has broken her moorings, and floated down the
current. I must say she has arrived very opportunely."

"Our boat?" murmured the engineer.

Pencroft was right. It was indeed the canoe, of which the rope had
undoubtedly broken, and which had come alone from the sources of the
Mercy. It was very important to seize it before the rapid current should
have swept it away out of the mouth of the river, but Neb and Pencroft
cleverly managed this by means of a long pole.

The canoe touched the shore. The engineer leaped in first, and found, on
examining the rope, that it had been really worn through by rubbing
against the rocks.

"Well," said the reporter to him, in a low voice, "this is a strange
thing."

"Strange indeed!" returned Cyrus Harding.

Strange or not, it was very fortunate. Herbert, the reporter, Neb, and
Pencroft, embarked in turn. There was no doubt about the rope having been
worn through, but the astonishing part of the affair was, that the boat
should arrive just at the moment when the settlers were there to seize it
on its way, for a quarter of an hour earlier or later it would have been
lost in the sea.

If they had been living in the time of genii, this incident would have
given them the right to think that the island was haunted by some
supernatural being, who used his power in the service of the castaways!

A few strokes of the oar brought the settlers to the mouth of the Mercy.
The canoe was hauled up on the beach near the Chimneys, and all proceeded
towards the ladder of Granite House.

But at that moment, Top barked angrily, and Neb, who was looking for the
first steps, uttered a cry.

There was no longer a ladder!

Chapter 6

Cyrus Harding stood still, without saying a word. His companions searched
in the darkness on the wall, in case the wind should have moved the
ladder, and on the ground, thinking that it might have fallen down.... But
the ladder had quite disappeared. As to ascertaining if a squall had blown
it on the landing-place, half way up, that was impossible in the dark.

"If it is a joke," cried Pencroft, "it is a very stupid one! To come home
and find no staircase to go up to your room by—that's nothing for
weary men to laugh at."

Neb could do nothing but cry out "Oh! oh! oh!"

"I begin to think that very curious things happen in Lincoln Island!" said
Pencroft.

"Curious?" replied Gideon Spilett, "not at all, Pencroft, nothing can be
more natural. Some one has come during our absence, taken possession of
our dwelling and drawn up the ladder."

"Some one," cried the sailor. "But who?"

"Who but the hunter who fired the bullet?" replied the reporter.

"Well, if there is any one up there," replied Pencroft, who began to lose
patience, "I will give them a hail, and they must answer."

And in a stentorian voice the sailor gave a prolonged "Halloo!" which was
echoed again and again from the cliff and rocks.

The settlers listened and they thought they heard a sort of chuckling
laugh, of which they could not guess the origin. But no voice replied to
Pencroft, who in vain repeated his vigorous shouts.

There was something indeed in this to astonish the most apathetic of men,
and the settlers were not men of that description. In their situation
every incident had its importance, and, certainly, during the seven months
which they had spent on the island, they had not before met with anything
of so surprising a character.

Be that as it may, forgetting their fatigue in the singularity of the
event, they remained below Granite House, not knowing what to think, not
knowing what to do, questioning each other without any hope of a
satisfactory reply, every one starting some supposition each more unlikely
than the last. Neb bewailed himself, much disappointed at not being able
to get into his kitchen, for the provisions which they had had on their
expedition were exhausted, and they had no means of renewing them.

"My friends," at last said Cyrus Harding, "there is only one thing to be
done at present; wait for day, and then act according to circumstances.
But let us go to the Chimneys. There we shall be under shelter, and if we
cannot eat, we can at least sleep."

"But who is it that has played us this cool trick?" again asked Pencroft,
unable to make up his mind to retire from the spot.

Whoever it was, the only thing practicable was to do as the engineer
proposed, to go to the Chimneys and there wait for day. In the meanwhile
Top was ordered to mount guard below the windows of Granite House, and
when Top received an order he obeyed it without any questioning. The brave
dog therefore remained at the foot of the cliff while his master with his
companions sought a refuge among the rocks.

To say that the settlers, notwithstanding their fatigue, slept well on the
sandy floor of the Chimneys would not be true. It was not only that they
were extremely anxious to find out the cause of what had happened, whether
it was the result of an accident which would be discovered at the return
of day, or whether on the contrary it was the work of a human being; but
they also had very uncomfortable beds. That could not be helped, however,
for in some way or other at that moment their dwelling was occupied, and
they could not possibly enter it.

Now Granite House was more than their dwelling, it was their warehouse.
There were all the stores belonging to the colony, weapons, instruments,
tools, ammunition, provisions, etc. To think that all that might be
pillaged and that the settlers would have all their work to do over again,
fresh weapons and tools to make, was a serious matter. Their uneasiness
led one or other of them also to go out every few minutes to see if Top
was keeping good watch. Cyrus Harding alone waited with his habitual
patience, although his strong mind was exasperated at being confronted
with such an inexplicable fact, and he was provoked at himself for
allowing a feeling to which he could not give a name, to gain an influence
over him. Gideon Spilett shared his feelings in this respect, and the two
conversed together in whispers of the inexplicable circumstance which
baffled even their intelligence and experience.

"It is a joke," said Pencroft; "it is a trick some one has played us.
Well, I don't like such jokes, and the joker had better look out for
himself, if he falls into my hands, I can tell him."

As soon as the first gleam of light appeared in the east, the colonists,
suitably armed, repaired to the beach under Granite House. The rising sun
now shone on the cliff and they could see the windows, the shutters of
which were closed, through the curtains of foliage.

All here was in order; but a cry escaped the colonists when they saw that
the door, which they had closed on their departure, was now wide open.

Some one had entered Granite House—there could be no more doubt
about that.

The upper ladder, which generally hung from the door to the landing, was
in its place, but the lower ladder was drawn up and raised to the
threshold. It was evident that the intruders had wished to guard
themselves against a surprise.

Pencroft hailed again.

No reply.

"The beggars," exclaimed the sailor. "There they are sleeping quietly as
if they were in their own house. Hallo there, you pirates, brigands,
robbers, sons of John Bull!"

When Pencroft, being a Yankee, treated any one to the epithet of "son of
John Bull," he considered he had reached the last limits of insult.

The sun had now completely risen, and the whole facade of Granite House
became illuminated by its rays; but in the interior as well as on the
exterior all was quiet and calm.

The settlers asked if Granite House was inhabited or not, and yet the
position of the ladder was sufficient to show that it was; it was also
certain that the inhabitants, whoever they might be, had not been able to
escape. But how were they to be got at?

Herbert then thought of fastening a cord to an arrow, and shooting the
arrow so that it should pass between the first rounds of the ladder which
hung from the threshold. By means of the cord they would then be able to
draw down the ladder to the ground, and so re-establish the communication
between the beach and Granite House. There was evidently nothing else to
be done, and, with a little skill, this method might succeed. Very
fortunately bows and arrows had been left at the Chimneys, where they also
found a quantity of light hibiscus cord. Pencroft fastened this to a
well-feathered arrow. Then Herbert fixing it to his bow, took a careful
aim for the lower part of the ladder.

Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spilett, Pencroft, and Neb drew back, so as to see
if anything appeared at the windows. The reporter lifted his gun to his
shoulder and covered the door.

The bow was bent, the arrow flew, taking the cord with it, and passed
between the two last rounds.

The operation had succeeded.

Herbert immediately seized the end of the cord, but, at that moment when
he gave it a pull to bring down the ladder, an arm, thrust suddenly out
between the wall and the door, grasped it and dragged it inside Granite
House.

"The rascals!" shouted the sailor. "If a ball can do anything for you, you
shall not have long to wait for it.

"But who was it?" asked Neb.

"Who was it? Didn't you see?"

"No."

"It was a monkey, a sapajou, an orangoutang, a baboon, a gorilla, a
sagoin. Our dwelling has been invaded by monkeys, who climbed up the
ladder during our absence."

And, at this moment, as if to bear witness to the truth of the sailor's
words, two or three quadrumana showed themselves at the windows, from
which they had pushed back the shutters, and saluted the real proprietors
of the place with a thousand hideous grimaces.

"I knew that it was only a joke," cried Pencroft; "but one of the jokers
shall pay the penalty for the rest."

So saying, the sailor, raising his piece, took a rapid aim at one of the
monkeys and fired. All disappeared, except one who fell mortally wounded
on the beach. This monkey, which was of a large size, evidently belonged
to the first order of the quadrumana. Whether this was a chimpanzee, an
orangoutang, or a gorilla, he took rank among the anthropoid apes, who are
so called from their resemblance to the human race. However, Herbert
declared it to be an orangoutang.

"What a magnificent beast!" cried Neb.

"Magnificent, if you like," replied Pencroft; "but still I do not see how
we are to get into our house."

"Herbert is a good marksman," said the reporter, "and his bow is here. He
can try again."

"Why, these apes are so cunning," returned Pencroft; "they won't show
themselves again at the windows and so we can't kill them; and when I
think of the mischief they may do in the rooms and storehouse—"

"I shall not be sure of that till I see them down here," replied the
sailor. "And now, captain, do you know how many dozens of these fellows
are up there?"

It was difficult to reply to Pencroft, and as for the young boy making
another attempt, that was not easy; for the lower part of the ladder had
been drawn again into the door, and when another pull was given, the line
broke and the ladder remained firm. The case was really perplexing.
Pencroft stormed. There was a comic side to the situation, but he did not
think it funny at all. It was certain that the settlers would end by
reinstating themselves in their domicile and driving out the intruders,
but when and how? this is what they were not able to say.

Two hours passed, during which the apes took care not to show themselves,
but they were still there, and three or four times a nose or a paw was
poked out at the door or windows, and was immediately saluted by a
gun-shot.

"Let us hide ourselves," at last said the engineer. "Perhaps the apes will
think we have gone quite away and will show themselves again. Let Spilett
and Herbert conceal themselves behind those rocks and fire on all that may
appear."

The engineer's orders were obeyed, and while the reporter and the lad, the
best marksmen in the colony, posted themselves in a good position, but out
of the monkeys' sight, Neb, Pencroft, and Cyrus climbed the plateau and
entered the forest in order to kill some game, for it was now time for
breakfast and they had no provisions remaining.

In half an hour the hunters returned with a few rock pigeons, which they
roasted as well as they could. Not an ape had appeared. Gideon Spilett and
Herbert went to take their share of the breakfast, leaving Top to watch
under the windows. They then, having eaten, returned to their post.

Two hours later, their situation was in no degree improved. The quadrumana
gave no sign of existence, and it might have been supposed that they had
disappeared; but what seemed more probable was that, terrified by the
death of one of their companions, and frightened by the noise of the
firearms, they had retreated to the back part of the house or probably
even into the store-room. And when they thought of the valuables which
this storeroom contained, the patience so much recommended by the
engineer, fast changed into great irritation, and there certainly was room
for it.

"Decidedly it is too bad," said the reporter; "and the worst of it is,
there is no way of putting an end to it."

"But we must drive these vagabonds out somehow," cried the sailor. "We
could soon get the better of them, even if there are twenty of the
rascals; but for that, we must meet them hand to hand. Come now, is there
no way of getting at them?"

"Let us try to enter Granite House by the old opening at the lake,"
replied the engineer.

"Oh!" shouted the sailor, "and I never thought of that."

This was in reality the only way by which to penetrate into Granite House
so as to fight with and drive out the intruders. The opening was, it is
true, closed up with a wall of cemented stones, which it would be
necessary to sacrifice, but that could easily be rebuilt. Fortunately,
Cyrus Harding had not as yet effected his project of hiding this opening
by raising the waters of the lake, for the operation would then have taken
some time.

It was already past twelve o'clock, when the colonists, well armed and
provided with picks and spades, left the Chimneys, passed beneath the
windows of Granite House, after telling Top to remain at his post, and
began to ascend the left bank of the Mercy, so as to reach Prospect
Heights.

But they had not made fifty steps in this direction, when they heard the
dog barking furiously.

And all rushed down the bank again.

Arrived at the turning, they saw that the situation had changed.

In fact, the apes, seized with a sudden panic, from some unknown cause,
were trying to escape. Two or three ran and clambered from one window to
another with the agility of acrobats. They were not even trying to replace
the ladder, by which it would have been easy to descend; perhaps in their
terror they had forgotten this way of escape. The colonists, now being
able to take aim without difficulty, fired. Some, wounded or killed, fell
back into the rooms, uttering piercing cries. The rest, throwing
themselves out, were dashed to pieces in their fall, and in a few minutes,
so far as they knew, there was not a living quadrumana in Granite House.

At this moment the ladder was seen to slip over the threshold, then unroll
and fall to the ground.

"Hullo!" cried the sailor, "this is queer!"

"Very strange!" murmured the engineer, leaping first up the ladder.

"Take care, captain!" cried Pencroft, "perhaps there are still some of
these rascals.

"We shall soon see," replied the engineer, without stopping however.

All his companions followed him, and in a minute they had arrived at the
threshold. They searched everywhere. There was no one in the rooms nor in
the storehouse, which had been respected by the band of quadrumana.

"Well now, and the ladder," cried the sailor; "who can the gentleman have
been who sent us that down?"

But at that moment a cry was heard, and a great orang, who had hidden
himself in the passage, rushed into the room, pursued by Neb.

"Ah, the robber!" cried Pencroft.

And hatchet in hand, he was about to cleave the head of the animal, when
Cyrus Harding seized his arm, saying,—

"Spare him, Pencroft."

"Pardon this rascal?"

"Yes! it was he who threw us the ladder!"

And the engineer said this in such a peculiar voice that it was difficult
to know whether he spoke seriously or not.

Nevertheless, they threw themselves on the orang, who defended himself
gallantly, but was soon overpowered and bound.

"There!" said Pencroft. "And what shall we make of him, now we've got
him?"

"A servant!" replied Herbert.

The lad was not joking in saying this, for he knew how this intelligent
race could be turned to account.

The settlers then approached the ape and gazed at it attentively. He
belonged to the family of anthropoid apes, of which the facial angle is
not much inferior to that of the Australians and Hottentots. It was an
orangoutang, and as such, had neither the ferocity of the gorilla, nor the
stupidity of the baboon. It is to this family of the anthropoid apes that
so many characteristics belong which prove them to be possessed of an
almost human intelligence. Employed in houses, they can wait at table,
sweep rooms, brush clothes, clean boots, handle a knife, fork, and spoon
properly, and even drink wine... doing everything as well as the best
servant that ever walked upon two legs. Buffon possessed one of these
apes, who served him for a long time as a faithful and zealous servant.

The one which had been seized in the hall of Granite House was a great
fellow, six feet high, with an admirably poportioned frame, a broad chest,
head of a moderate size, the facial angle reaching sixty-five degrees,
round skull, projecting nose, skin covered with soft glossy hair, in
short, a fine specimen of the anthropoids. His eyes, rather smaller than
human eyes, sparkled with intelligence; his white teeth glittered under
his mustache, and he wore a little curly brown beard.

"A handsome fellow!" said Pencroft; "if we only knew his language, we
could talk to him."

"But, master," said Neb, "are you serious? Are we going to take him as a
servant?"

"Yes, Neb," replied the engineer, smiling. "But you must not be jealous."

"And I hope he will make an excellent servant," added Herbert. "He appears
young, and will be easy to educate, and we shall not be obliged to use
force to subdue him, nor draw his teeth, as is sometimes done. He will
soon grow fond of his masters if they are kind to him."

"And they will be," replied Pencroft, who had forgotten all his rancor
against "the jokers."

Then, approaching the orang,—

"Well, old boy!" he asked, "how are you?"

The orang replied by a little grunt which did not show any anger.

"You wish to join the colony?" again asked the sailor. "You are going to
enter the service of Captain Cyrus Harding?"

Another respondent grunt was uttered by the ape.

"And you will be satisfied with no other wages than your food?"

Third affirmative grunt.

"This conversation is slightly monotonous," observed Gideon Spilett.

"So much the better," replied Pencroft; "the best servants are those who
talk the least. And then, no wages, do you hear, my boy? We will give you
no wages at first, but we will double them afterwards if we are pleased
with you."

Thus the colony was increased by a new member. As to his name the sailor
begged that in memory of another ape which he had known, he might be
called Jupiter, and Jup for short.

And so, without more ceremony, Master Jup was installed in Granite House.

Chapter 7

The settlers in Lincoln Island had now regained their dwelling, without
having been obliged to reach it by the old opening, and were therefore
spared the trouble of mason's work. It was certainly lucky, that at the
moment they were about to set out to do so, the apes had been seized with
that terror, no less sudden than inexplicable, which had driven them out
of Granite House. Had the animals discovered that they were about to be
attacked from another direction? This was the only explanation of their
sudden retreat.

During the day the bodies of the apes were carried into the wood, where
they were buried; then the settlers busied themselves in repairing the
disorder caused by the intruders, disorder but not damage, for although
they had turned everything in the rooms topsy-turvy, yet they had broken
nothing. Neb relighted his stove, and the stores in the larder furnished a
substantial repast, to which all did ample justice.

Jup was not forgotten, and he ate with relish some stonepine almonds and
rhizome roots, with which he was abundantly supplied. Pencroft had
unfastened his arms, but judged it best to have his legs tied until they
were more sure of his submission.

Then, before retiring to rest, Harding and his companions seated round
their table, discussed those plans, the execution of which was most
pressing. The most important and most urgent was the establishment of a
bridge over the Mercy, so as to form a communication with the southern
part of the island and Granite House; then the making of an enclosure for
the musmons or other woolly animals which they wished to capture.

These two projects would help to solve the difficulty as to their
clothing, which was now serious. The bridge would render easy the
transport of the balloon case, which would furnish them with linen, and
the inhabitants of the enclosure would yield wool which would supply them
with winter clothes.

As to the enclosure, it was Cyrus Harding's intention to establish it at
the sources of the Red Creek, where the ruminants would find fresh and
abundant pasture. The road between Prospect Heights and the sources of the
stream was already partly beaten, and with a better cart than the first,
the material could be easily conveyed to the spot, especially if they
could manage to capture some animals to draw it.

But though there might be no inconvenience in the enclosure being so far
from Granite House, it would not be the same with the poultry-yard, to
which Neb called the attention of the colonists. It was indeed necessary
that the birds should be close within reach of the cook, and no place
appeared more favorable for the establishment of the said poultry-yard
than that portion of the banks of the lake which was close to the old
opening.

Water-birds would prosper there as well as others, and the couple of
tinamous taken in their last excursion would be the first to be
domesticated.

The next day, the 3rd of November, the new works were begun by the
construction of the bridge, and all hands were required for this important
task. Saws, hatchets, and hammers were shouldered by the settlers, who,
now transformed into carpenters, descended to the shore.

There Pencroft observed,—

"Suppose, that during our absence, Master Jup takes it into his head to
draw up the ladder which he so politely returned to us yesterday?"

"Let us tie its lower end down firmly," replied Cyrus Harding.

This was done by means of two stakes securely fixed in the sand. Then the
settlers, ascending the left bank of the Mercy, soon arrived at the angle
formed by the river.

There they halted, in order to ascertain if the bridge could be thrown
across. The place appeared suitable.

In fact, from this spot, to Port Balloon, discovered the day before on the
southern coast, there was only a distance of three miles and a half, and
from the bridge to the Port, it would be easy to make a good cart-road
which would render the communication between Granite House and the south
of the island extremely easy.

Cyrus Harding now imparted to his companions a scheme for completely
isolating Prospect Heights so as to shelter it from the attacks both of
quadrupeds and quadrumana. In this way, Granite House, the Chimneys, the
poultry-yard, and all the upper part of the plateau which was to be used
for cultivation, would be protected against the depredations of animals.
Nothing could be easier than to execute this project, and this is how the
engineer intended to set to work.

The plateau was already defended on three sides by water-courses, either
artificial or natural. On the northwest, by the shores of Lake Grant, from
the entrance of the passage to the breach made in the banks of the lake
for the escape of the water.

On the north, from this breach to the sea, by the new water-course which
had hollowed out a bed for itself across the plateau and shore, above and
below the fall, and it would be enough to dig the bed of this creek a
little deeper to make it impracticable for animals, on all the eastern
border by the sea itself, from the mouth of the aforesaid creek to the
mouth of the Mercy.

Lastly, on the south, from the mouth to the turn of the Mercy where the
bridge was to be established.

The western border of the plateau now remained between the turn of the
river and the southern angle of the lake, a distance of about a mile,
which was open to all comers. But nothing could be easier than to dig a
broad deep ditch, which could be filled from the lake, and the overflow of
which would throw itself by a rapid fall into the bed of the Mercy. The
level of the lake would, no doubt, be somewhat lowered by this fresh
discharge of its waters, but Cyrus Harding had ascertained that the volume
of water in the Red Creek was considerable enough to allow of the
execution of this project.

"So then," added the engineer, "Prospect Heights will become a regular
island, being surrounded with water on all sides, and only communicating
with the rest of our domain by the bridge which we are about to throw
across the Mercy, the two little bridges already established above and
below the fall; and, lastly, two other little bridges which must be
constructed, one over the canal which I propose to dig, the other across
to the left bank of the Mercy. Now, if these bridges can be raised at
will, Prospect Heights will be guarded from any surprise."

The bridge was the most urgent work. Trees were selected, cut down,
stripped of their branches, and cut into beams, joists, and planks. The
end of the bridge which rested on the right bank of the Mercy was to be
firm, but the other end on the left bank was to be movable, so that it
might be raised by means of a counterpoise, as some canal bridges are
managed.

This was certainly a considerable work, and though it was skillfully
conducted, it took some time, for the Mercy at this place was eighty feet
wide. It was therefore necessary to fix piles in the bed of the river so
as to sustain the floor of the bridge and establish a pile-driver to act
on the tops of these piles, which would thus form two arches and allow the
bridge to support heavy loads.

Happily there was no want of tools with which to shape the wood, nor of
iron-work to make it firm, nor of the ingenuity of a man who had a
marvelous knowledge of the work, nor lastly, the zeal of his companions,
who in seven months had necessarily acquired great skill in the use of
their tools; and it must be said that not the least skilful was Gideon
Spilett, who in dexterity almost equaled the sailor himself. "Who would
ever have expected so much from a newspaper man!" thought Pencroft.

The construction of the Mercy bridge lasted three weeks of regular hard
work. They even breakfasted on the scene of their labors, and the weather
being magnificent, they only returned to Granite House to sleep.

During this period it may be stated that Master Jup grew more accustomed
to his new masters, whose movements he always watched with very
inquisitive eyes. However, as a precautionary measure, Pencroft did not as
yet allow him complete liberty, rightly wishing to wait until the limits
of the plateau should be settled by the projected works. Top and Jup were
good friends and played willingly together, but Jup did everything
solemnly.

On the 20th of November the bridge was finished. The movable part,
balanced by the counterpoise, swung easily, and only a slight effort was
needed to raise it; between its hinge and the last cross-bar on which it
rested when closed, there existed a space of twenty feet, which was
sufficiently wide to prevent any animals from crossing.

The settlers now began to talk of fetching the balloon-case, which they
were anxious to place in perfect security; but to bring it, it would be
necessary to take a cart to Port Balloon, and consequently, necessary to
beat a road through the dense forests of the Far West. This would take
some time. Also, Neb and Pencroft having gone to examine into the state of
things at Port Balloon, and reported that the stock of cloth would suffer
no damage in the grotto where it was stored, it was decided that the work
at Prospect Heights should not be discontinued.

"That," observed Pencroft, "will enable us to establish our poultry-yard
under better conditions, since we need have no fear of visits from foxes
nor the attacks of other beasts."

"And prepare our second corn-field!" cried the sailor with a triumphant
air.

In fact, the first corn-field sown with a single grain had prospered
admirably, thanks to Pencroft's care. It had produced the ten ears
foretold by the engineer, and each ear containing eighty grains, the
colony found itself in possession of eight hundred grains, in six months,
which promised a double harvest each year.

These eight hundred grains, except fifty, which were prudently reserved,
were to be sown in a new field, but with no less care than was bestowed on
the single grain.

The field was prepared, then surrounded with a strong palisade, high and
pointed, which quadrupeds would have found difficulty in leaping. As to
birds, some scarecrows, due to Pencroft's ingenious brain, were enough to
frighten them. The seven hundred and fifty grains deposited in very
regular furrows were then left for nature to do the rest.

On the 21st of November, Cyrus Harding began to plan the canal which was
to close the plateau on the west, from the south angle of Lake Grant to
the angle of the Mercy. There was there two or three feet of vegetable
earth, and below that granite. It was therefore necessary to manufacture
some more nitro-glycerine, and the nitro-glycerine did its accustomed
work. In less than a fortnight a ditch, twelve feet wide and six deep, was
dug out in the hard ground of the plateau. A new trench was made by the
same means in the rocky border of the lake, forming a small stream, to
which they gave the name of Creek Glycerine, and which was thus an
affluent of the Mercy. As the engineer had predicted, the level of the
lake was lowered, though very slightly. To complete the enclosure the bed
of the stream on the beach was considerably enlarged, and the sand
supported by means of stakes.

By the end of the first fortnight of December these works were finished,
and Prospect Heights—that is to say, a sort of irregular pentagon,
having a perimeter of nearly four miles, surrounded by a liquid belt—was
completely protected from depredators of every description.

During the month of December, the heat was very great. In spite of it,
however, the settlers continued their work, and as they were anxious to
possess a poultry-yard they forthwith commenced it.

It is useless to say that since the enclosing of the plateau had been
completed, Master Jup had been set at liberty. He did not leave his
masters, and evinced no wish to escape. He was a gentle animal, though
very powerful and wonderfully active. He was already taught to make
himself useful by drawing loads of wood and carting away the stones which
were extracted from the bed of Creek Glycerine.

The poultry-yard occupied an area of two hundred square yards, on the
southeastern bank of the lake. It was surrounded by a palisade, and in it
were constructed various shelters for the birds which were to populate it.
These were simply built of branches and divided into compartments, made
ready for the expected guests.

The first were the two tinamous, which were not long in having a number of
young ones; they had for companions half a dozen ducks, accustomed to the
borders of the lake. Some belonged to the Chinese species, of which the
wings open like a fan, and which by the brilliancy of their plumage rival
the golden pheasants. A few days afterwards, Herbert snared a couple of
gallinaceae, with spreading tails composed of long feathers, magnificent
alectors, which soon became tame. As to pelicans, kingfishers, water-hens,
they came of themselves to the shores of the poultry-yard, and this little
community, after some disputes, cooing, screaming, clucking, ended by
settling down peacefully, and increased in encouraging proportion for the
future use of the colony.

Cyrus Harding, wishing to complete his performance, established a
pigeon-house in a corner of the poultry-yard. There he lodged a dozen of
those pigeons which frequented the rocks of the plateau. These birds soon
became accustomed to returning every evening to their new dwelling, and
showed more disposition to domesticate themselves than their congeners,
the wood-pigeons.

Lastly, the time had come for turning the balloon-case to use, by cutting
it up to make shirts and other articles; for as to keeping it in its
present form, and risking themselves in a balloon filled with gas, above a
sea of the limits of which they had no idea, it was not to be thought of.

It was necessary to bring the case to Granite House, and the colonists
employed themselves in rendering their heavy cart lighter and more
manageable. But though they had a vehicle, the moving power was yet to be
found.

But did there not exist in the island some animal which might supply the
place of the horse, ass, or ox? That was the question.

"Certainly," said Pencroft, "a beast of burden would be very useful to us
until the captain has made a steam cart, or even an engine, for some day
we shall have a railroad from Granite House to Port Balloon, with a branch
line to Mount Franklin!"

One day, the 23rd of December, Neb and Top were heard shouting and
barking, each apparently trying to see who could make the most noise. The
settlers, who were busy at the Chimneys, ran, fearing some vexatious
incident.

What did they see? Two fine animals of a large size that had imprudently
ventured on the plateau, when the bridges were open. One would have said
they were horses, or at least donkeys, male and female, of a fine shape,
dove-colored, the legs and tail white, striped with black on the head and
neck. They advanced quietly without showing any uneasiness, and gazed at
the men, in whom they could not as yet recognize their future masters.

"These are onagers!" cried Herbert, "animals something between the zebra
and the quagga!"

"Why not donkeys?" asked Neb.

"Because they have not long ears, and their shape is more graceful!"

"Donkeys or horses," interrupted Pencroft, "they are 'moving powers,' as
the captain would say, and as such must be captured!"

The sailor, without frightening the animals, crept through the grass to
the bridge over Creek Glycerine, lowered it, and the onagers were
prisoners.

Now, should they seize them with violence and master them by force? No. It
was decided that for a few days they should be allowed to roam freely
about the plateau, where there was an abundance of grass, and the engineer
immediately began to prepare a stable near the poultry-yard, in which the
onagers might find food, with a good litter, and shelter during the night.

This done, the movements of the two magnificent creatures were left
entirely free, and the settlers avoided even approaching them so as to
terrify them. Several times, however, the onagers appeared to wish to
leave the plateau, too confined for animals accustomed to the plains and
forests. They were then seen following the water-barrier which everywhere
presented itself before them, uttering short neighs, then galloping
through the grass, and becoming calmer, they would remain entire hours
gazing at the woods, from which they were cut off for ever!

In the meantime harness of vegetable fiber had been manufactured, and some
days after the capture of the onagers, not only the cart was ready, but a
straight road, or rather a cutting, had been made through the forests of
the Far West, from the angle of the Mercy to Port Balloon. The cart might
then be driven there, and towards the end of December they tried the
onagers for the first time.

Pencroft had already coaxed the animals to come and eat out of his hand,
and they allowed him to approach without making any difficulty, but once
harnessed they reared and could with difficulty be held in. However, it
was not long before they submitted to this new service, for the onager,
being less refractory than the zebra, is frequently put in harness in the
mountainous regions of Southern Africa, and it has even been acclimatized
in Europe, under zones of a relative coolness.

On this day all the colony, except Pencroft who walked at the animals'
heads, mounted the cart, and set out on the road to Port Balloon.

Of course they were jolted over the somewhat rough road, but the vehicle
arrived without any accident, and was soon loaded with the case and
rigging of the balloon.

At eight o'clock that evening the cart, after passing over the Mercy
bridge, descended the left bank of the river, and stopped on the beach.
The onagers being unharnessed, were thence led to their stable, and
Pencroft before going to sleep gave vent to his feelings in a deep sigh of
satisfaction that awoke all the echoes of Granite House.

Chapter 8

The first week of January was devoted to the manufacture of the linen
garments required by the colony. The needles found in the box were used by
sturdy if not delicate fingers, and we may be sure that what was sewn was
sewn firmly.

There was no lack of thread, thanks to Cyrus Harding's idea of
re-employing that which had been already used in the covering of the
balloon. This with admirable patience was all unpicked by Gideon Spilett
and Herbert, for Pencroft had been obliged to give this work up, as it
irritated him beyond measure; but he had no equal in the sewing part of
the business. Indeed, everybody knows that sailors have a remarkable
aptitude for tailoring.

The cloth of which the balloon-case was made was then cleaned by means of
soda and potash, obtained by the incineration of plants, in such a way
that the cotton, having got rid of the varnish, resumed its natural
softness and elasticity; then, exposed to the action of the atmosphere, it
soon became perfectly white. Some dozen shirts and sock—the latter
not knitted, of course, but made of cotton—were thus manufactured.
What a comfort it was to the settlers to clothe themselves again in clean
linen, which was doubtless rather rough, but they were not troubled about
that! and then to go to sleep between sheets, which made the couches at
Granite House into quite comfortable beds!

It was about this time also that they made boots of seal-leather, which
were greatly needed to replace the shoes and boots brought from America.
We may be sure that these new shoes were large enough and never pinched
the feet of the wearers.

With the beginning of the year 1866 the heat was very great, but the
hunting in the forests did not stand still. Agouties, peccaries,
capybaras, kangaroos, game of all sorts, actually swarmed there, and
Spilett and Herbert were too good marksmen ever to throw away their shot
uselessly.

Cyrus Harding still recommended them to husband the ammunition, and he
took measures to replace the powder and shot which had been found in the
box, and which he wished to reserve for the future. How did he know where
chance might one day cast his companions and himself in the event of their
leaving their domain? They should, then, prepare for the unknown future by
husbanding their ammunition and by substituting for it some easily
renewable substance.

To replace lead, of which Harding had found no traces in the island, he
employed granulated iron, which was easy to manufacture. These bullets,
not having the weight of leaden bullets, were made larger, and each charge
contained less, but the skill of the sportsmen made up this deficiency. As
to powder, Cyrus Harding would have been able to make that also, for he
had at his disposal saltpeter, sulphur, and coal; but this preparation
requires extreme care, and without special tools it is difficult to
produce it of a good quality. Harding preferred, therefore, to manufacture
pyroxyle, that is to say gun-cotton, a substance in which cotton is not
indispensable, as the elementary tissue of vegetables may be used, and
this is found in an almost pure state, not only in cotton, but in the
textile fiber of hemp and flax, in paper, the pith of the elder, etc. Now,
the elder abounded in the island towards the mouth of Red Creek, and the
colonists had already made coffee of the berries of these shrubs, which
belong to the family of the caprifoliaceae.

The only thing to be collected, therefore, was elder-pith, for as to the
other substance necessary for the manufacture of pyroxyle, it was only
fuming azotic acid. Now, Harding having sulphuric acid at his disposal,
had already been easily able to produce azotic acid by attacking the
saltpeter with which nature supplied him. He accordingly resolved to
manufacture and employ pyroxyle, although it has some inconveniences, that
is to say, a great inequality of effect, an excessive inflammability,
since it takes fire at one hundred and seventy degrees instead of two
hundred and forty, and lastly, an instantaneous deflagration which might
damage the firearms. On the other hand, the advantages of pyroxyle consist
in this, that it is not injured by damp, that it does not make the
gun-barrels dirty, and that its force is four times that of ordinary
powder.

To make pyroxyle, the cotton must be immersed in the fuming azotic acid
for a quarter of an hour, then washed in cold water and dried. Nothing
could be more simple.

Cyrus Harding had only at his disposal the ordinary azotic acid and not
the fuming or monohydrate azotic acid, that is to say, acid which emits
white vapors when it comes in contact with damp air; but by substituting
for the latter ordinary azotic acid, mixed, in the proportion of from
three to five volumes of concentrated sulphuric acid, the engineer
obtained the same result. The sportsmen of the island therefore soon had a
perfectly prepared substance, which, employed discreetly, produced
admirable results.

About this time the settlers cleared three acres of the plateau, and the
rest was preserved in a wild state, for the benefit of the onagers.
Several excursions were made into the Jacamar Wood and the forests of the
Far West, and they brought back from thence a large collection of wild
vegetables, spinach, cress, radishes, and turnips, which careful culture
would soon improve, and which would temper the regimen on which the
settlers had till then subsisted. Supplies of wood and coal were also
carted. Each excursion was at the same time a means of improving the
roads, which gradually became smoother under the wheels of the cart.

The rabbit-warren still continued to supply the larder of Granite House.
As fortunately it was situated on the other side of Creek Glycerine, its
inhabitants could not reach the plateau nor ravage the newly-made
plantation. The oyster-bed among the rocks was frequently renewed and
furnished excellent molluscs. Besides that, the fishing, either in the
lake or the Mercy, was very profitable, for Pencroft had made some lines,
armed with iron hooks, with which they frequently caught fine trout, and a
species of fish whose silvery sides were speckled with yellow, and which
were also extremely savory. Master Neb, who was skilled in the culinary
art, knew how to vary agreeably the bill of fare. Bread alone was wanting
at the table of the settlers, and as has been said, they felt this
privation greatly.

The settlers hunted too the turtles which frequented the shores of Cape
Mandible. At this place the beach was covered with little mounds,
concealing perfectly spherical turtles' eggs, with white hard shells, the
albumen of which does not coagulate as that of birds' eggs. They were
hatched by the sun, and their number was naturally considerable, as each
turtle can lay annually two hundred and fifty.

"A regular egg-field," observed Gideon Spilett, "and we have nothing to do
but to pick them up."

But not being contented with simply the produce, they made chase after the
producers, the result of which was that they were able to bring back to
Granite House a dozen of these chelonians, which were really valuable from
an alimentary point of view. The turtle soup, flavored with aromatic
herbs, often gained well-merited praises for its preparer, Neb.

We must here mention another fortunate circumstance by which new stores
for the winter were laid in. Shoals of salmon entered the Mercy, and
ascended the country for several miles. It was the time at which the
females, going to find suitable places in which to spawn, precede the
males and make a great noise through the fresh water. A thousand of these
fish, which measured about two feet and a half in length, came up the
river, and a large quantity were retained by fixing dams across the
stream. More than a hundred were thus taken, which were salted and stored
for the time when winter, freezing up the streams, would render fishing
impracticable. By this time the intelligent Jup was raised to the duty of
valet. He had been dressed in a jacket, white linen breeches, and an
apron, the pockets of which were his delight. The clever orang had been
marvelously trained by Neb, and any one would have said that the Negro and
the ape understood each other when they talked together. Jup had besides a
real affection for Neb, and Neb returned it. When his services were not
required, either for carrying wood or for climbing to the top of some
tree, Jup passed the greatest part of his time in the kitchen, where he
endeavored to imitate Neb in all that he saw him do. The black showed the
greatest patience and even extreme zeal in instructing his pupil, and the
pupil exhibited remarkable intelligence in profiting by the lessons he
received from his master.

Judge then of the pleasure Master Jup gave to the inhabitants of Granite
House when, without their having had any idea of it, he appeared one day,
napkin on his arm, ready to wait at table. Quick, attentive, he acquitted
himself perfectly, changing the plates, bringing dishes, pouring out
water, all with a gravity which gave intense amusement to the settlers,
and which enraptured Pencroft.

"Jup, some soup!"

"Jup, a little agouti!"

"Jup, a plate!"

"Jup! Good Jup! Honest Jup!"

Nothing was heard but that, and Jup without ever being disconcerted,
replied to every one, watched for everything, and he shook his head in a
knowing way when Pencroft, referring to his joke of the first day, said to
him,—

"Decidedly, Jup, your wages must be doubled."

It is useless to say that the orang was now thoroughly domesticated at
Granite House, and that he often accompanied his masters to the forest
without showing any wish to leave them. It was most amusing to see him
walking with a stick which Pencroft had given him, and which he carried on
his shoulder like a gun. If they wished to gather some fruit from the
summit of a tree, how quickly he climbed for it. If the wheel of the cart
stuck in the mud, with what energy did Jup with a single heave of his
shoulder put it right again.

"What a jolly fellow he is!" cried Pencroft often. "If he was as
mischievous as he is good, there would be no doing anything with him!"

It was towards the end of January the colonists began their labors in the
center of the island. It had been decided that a corral should be
established near the sources of the Red Creek, at the foot of Mount
Franklin, destined to contain the ruminants, whose presence would have
been troublesome at Granite House, and especially for the musmons, who
were to supply the wool for the settlers' winter garments.

Each morning, the colony, sometimes entire, but more often represented
only by Harding, Herbert, and Pencroft, proceeded to the sources of the
Creek, a distance of not more than five miles, by the newly beaten road to
which the name of Corral Road had been given.

There a site was chosen, at the back of the southern ridge of the
mountain. It was a meadow land, dotted here and there with clumps of
trees, and watered by a little stream, which sprung from the slopes which
closed it in on one side. The grass was fresh, and it was not too much
shaded by the trees which grew about it. This meadow was to be surrounded
by a palisade, high enough to prevent even the most agile animals from
leaping over. This enclosure would be large enough to contain a hundred
musmons and wild goats, with all the young ones they might produce.

The perimeter of the corral was then traced by the engineer, and they
would then have proceeded to fell the trees necessary for the construction
of the palisade, but as the opening up of the road had already
necessitated the sacrifice of a considerable number, those were brought
and supplied a hundred stakes, which were firmly fixed in the ground.

The construction of this corral did not take less than three weeks, for
besides the palisade, Cyrus Harding built large sheds, in which the
animals could take shelter. These buildings had also to be made very
strong, for musmons are powerful animals, and their first fury was to be
feared. The stakes, sharpened at their upper end and hardened by fire, had
been fixed by means of cross-bars, and at regular distances props assured
the solidity of the whole.

The corral finished, a raid had to be made on the pastures frequented by
the ruminants. This was done on the 7th of February, on a beautiful
summer's day, and every one took part in it. The onagers, already well
trained, were ridden by Spilett and Herbert, and were of great use.

The maneuver consisted simply in surrounding the musmons and goats, and
gradually narrowing the circle around them. Cyrus Harding, Pencroft, Neb,
and Jup, posted themselves in different parts of the wood, while the two
cavaliers and Top galloped in a radius of half a mile round the corral.

The musmons were very numerous in this part of the island. These fine
animals were as large as deer; their horns were stronger than those of the
ram, and their gray-colored fleece was mixed with long hair.

This hunting day was very fatiguing. Such going and coming, and running
and riding and shouting! Of a hundred musmons which had been surrounded,
more than two-thirds escaped, but at last, thirty of these animals and ten
wild goats were gradually driven back towards the corral, the open door of
which appearing to offer a means of escape, they rushed in and were
prisoners.

In short, the result was satisfactory, and the settlers had no reason to
complain. There was no doubt that the flock would prosper, and that at no
distant time not only wool but hides would be abundant.

That evening the hunters returned to Granite House quite exhausted.
However, notwithstanding their fatigue, they returned the next day to
visit the corral. The prisoners had been trying to overthrow the palisade,
but of course had not succeeded, and were not long in becoming more
tranquil.

During the month of February, no event of any importance occurred. The
daily labors were pursued methodically, and, as well as improving the
roads to the corral and to Port Balloon, a third was commenced, which,
starting from the enclosure, proceeded towards the western coast. The yet
unknown portion of Lincoln Island was that of the wood-covered Serpentine
Peninsula, which sheltered the wild beasts, from which Gideon Spilett was
so anxious to clear their domain.

Before the cold season should appear the most assiduous care was given to
the cultivation of the wild plants which had been transplanted from the
forest to Prospect Heights. Herbert never returned from an excursion
without bringing home some useful vegetable. One day, it was some
specimens of the chicory tribe, the seeds of which by pressure yield an
excellent oil; another, it was some common sorrel, whose antiscorbutic
qualities were not to be despised; then, some of those precious tubers,
which have at all times been cultivated in South America, potatoes, of
which more than two hundred species are now known. The kitchen garden, now
well stocked and carefully defended from the birds, was divided into small
beds, where grew lettuces, kidney potatoes, sorrel, turnips, radishes, and
other coneiferae. The soil on the plateau was particularly fertile, and it
was hoped that the harvests would be abundant.

They had also a variety of different beverages, and so long as they did
not demand wine, the most hard to please would have had no reason to
complain. To the Oswego tea, and the fermented liquor extracted from the
roots of the dragonnier, Harding had added a regular beer, made from the
young shoots of the spruce-fir, which, after having been boiled and
fermented, made that agreeable drink called by the Anglo-Americans
spring-beer.

Towards the end of the summer, the poultry-yard was possessed of a couple
of fine bustards, which belonged to the houbara species, characterized by
a sort of feathery mantle; a dozen shovelers, whose upper mandible was
prolonged on each side by a membraneous appendage; and also some
magnificent cocks, similar to the Mozambique cocks, the comb, caruncle,
and epidermis being black. So far, everything had succeeded, thanks to the
activity of these courageous and intelligent men. Nature did much for
them, doubtless; but faithful to the great precept, they made a right use
of what a bountiful Providence gave them.

After the heat of these warm summer days, in the evening when their work
was finished and the sea-breeze began to blow, they liked to sit on the
edge of Prospect Heights, in a sort of veranda, covered with creepers,
which Neb had made with his own hands. There they talked, they instructed
each other, they made plans, and the rough good-humor of the sailor always
amused this little world, in which the most perfect harmony had never
ceased to reign.

They often spoke of their country, of their dear and great America. What
was the result of the War of Secession? It could not have been greatly
prolonged. Richmond had doubtless soon fallen into the hands of General
Grant. The taking of the capital of the Confederates must have been the
last action of this terrible struggle. Now the North had triumphed in the
good cause, how welcome would have been a newspaper to the exiles in
Lincoln Island! For eleven months all communication between them and the
rest of their fellow-creatures had been interrupted, and in a short time
the 24th of March would arrive, the anniversary of the day on which the
balloon had thrown them on this unknown coast. They were then mere
castaways, not even knowing how they should preserve their miserable lives
from the fury of the elements! And now, thanks to the knowledge of their
captain, and their own intelligence, they were regular colonists,
furnished with arms, tools, and instruments; they had been able to turn to
their profit the animals, plants, and minerals of the island, that is to
say, the three kingdoms of Nature.

Yes; they often talked of all these things and formed still more plans.

As to Cyrus Harding he was for the most part silent, and listened to his
companions more often than he spoke to them. Sometimes he smiled at
Herbert's ideas or Pencroft's nonsense, but always and everywhere he
pondered over those inexplicable facts, that strange enigma, of which the
secret still escaped him!

Chapter 9

The weather changed during the first week of March. There had been a full
moon at the commencement of the month, and the heat was excessive. The
atmosphere was felt to be full of electricity, and a period of some length
of tempestuous weather was to be feared.

Indeed, on the 2nd, peals of thunder were heard, the wind blew from the
east, and hail rattled against the facade of Granite House like volleys of
grape-shot. The door and windows were immediately closed, or everything in
the rooms would have been drenched. On seeing these hailstones, some of
which were the size of a pigeon's egg, Pencroft's first thought was that
his cornfield was in serious danger.

He directly rushed to his field, where little green heads were already
appearing, and by means of a great cloth, he managed to protect his crop.

This bad weather lasted a week, during which time the thunder rolled
without cessation in the depths of the sky.

The colonists, not having any pressing work out of doors, profited by the
bad weather to work at the interior of Granite House, the arrangement of
which was becoming more complete from day to day. The engineer made a
turning-lathe, with which he turned several articles both for the toilet
and the kitchen, particularly buttons, the want of which was greatly felt.
A gunrack had been made for the firearms, which were kept with extreme
care, and neither tables nor cupboards were left incomplete. They sawed,
they planed, they filed, they turned; and during the whole of this bad
season, nothing was heard but the grinding of tools or the humming of the
turning-lathe which responded to the growling of the thunder.

Master Jup had not been forgotten, and he occupied a room at the back,
near the storeroom, a sort of cabin with a cot always full of good litter,
which perfectly suited his taste.

"With good old Jup there is never any quarreling," often repeated
Pencroft, "never any improper reply. What a servant, Neb, what a servant!"

Of course Jup was now well used to service. He brushed their clothes, he
turned the spit, he waited at table, he swept the rooms, he gathered wood,
and he performed another admirable piece of service which delighted
Pencroft—he never went to sleep without first coming to tuck up the
worthy sailor in his bed.

As to the health of the members of the colony, bipeds or bimana,
quadrumana or quadrupeds, it left nothing to be desired. With their life
in the open air, on this salubrious soil, under that temperate zone,
working both with head and hands, they could not suppose that illness
would ever attack them.

All were indeed wonderfully well. Herbert had already grown two inches in
the year. His figure was forming and becoming more manly, and he promised
to be an accomplished man, physically as well as morally. Besides he
improved himself during the leisure hours which manual occupations left to
him; he read the books found in the case; and after the practical lessons
which were taught by the very necessity of their position, he found in the
engineer for science, and the reporter for languages, masters who were
delighted to complete his education.

The tempest ended about the 9th of March, but the sky remained covered
with clouds during the whole of this last summer month. The atmosphere,
violently agitated by the electric commotions, could not recover its
former purity, and there was almost invariably rain and fog, except for
three or four fine days on which several excursions were made. About this
time the female onager gave birth to a young one which belonged to the
same sex as its mother, and which throve capitally. In the corral, the
flock of musmons had also increased, and several lambs already bleated in
the sheds, to the great delight of Neb and Herbert, who had each their
favorite among these newcomers. An attempt was also made for the
domestication of the peccaries, which succeeded well. A sty was
constructed under the poultry-yard, and soon contained several young ones
in the way to become civilized, that is to say, to become fat under Neb's
care. Master Jup, entrusted with carrying them their daily nourishment,
leavings from the kitchen, etc., acquitted himself conscientiously of his
task. He sometimes amused himself at the expense of his little pensioners
by tweaking their tails; but this was mischief, and not wickedness, for
these little twisted tails amused him like a plaything, and his instinct
was that of a child. One day in this month of March, Pencroft, talking to
the engineer, reminded Cyrus Harding of a promise which the latter had not
as yet had time to fulfil.

"You once spoke of an apparatus which would take the place of the long
ladders at Granite House, captain," said he; "won't you make it some day?"

"Nothing will be easier; but is this a really useful thing?"

"Certainly, captain. After we have given ourselves necessaries, let us
think a little of luxury. For us it may be luxury, if you like, but for
things it is necessary. It isn't very convenient to climb up a long ladder
when one is heavily loaded."

"Well, Pencroft, we will try to please you," replied Cyrus Harding.

"But you have no machine at your disposal."

"We will make one."

"A steam machine?"

"No, a water machine."

And, indeed, to work his apparatus there was already a natural force at
the disposal of the engineer which could be used without great difficulty.
For this, it was enough to augment the flow of the little stream which
supplied the interior of Granite House with water. The opening among the
stones and grass was then increased, thus producing a strong fall at the
bottom of the passage, the overflow from which escaped by the inner well.
Below this fall the engineer fixed a cylinder with paddles, which was
joined on the exterior with a strong cable rolled on a wheel, supporting a
basket. In this way, by means of a long rope reaching to the ground, which
enabled them to regulate the motive power, they could rise in the basket
to the door of Granite House.

It was on the 17th of March that the lift acted for the first time, and
gave universal satisfaction. Henceforward all the loads, wood, coal,
provisions, and even the settlers themselves, were hoisted by this simple
system, which replaced the primitive ladder, and, as may be supposed, no
one thought of regretting the change. Top particularly was enchanted with
this improvement, for he had not, and never could have possessed Master
Jup's skill in climbing ladders, and often it was on Neb's back, or even
on that of the orang that he had been obliged to make the ascent to
Granite House. About this time, too, Cyrus Harding attempted to
manufacture glass, and he at first put the old pottery-kiln to this new
use. There were some difficulties to be encountered; but, after several
fruitless attempts, he succeeded in setting up a glass manufactory, which
Gideon Spilett and Herbert, his usual assistants, did not leave for
several days. As to the substances used in the composition of glass, they
are simply sand, chalk, and soda, either carbonate or sulphate. Now the
beach supplied sand, lime supplied chalk, sea-weeds supplied soda, pyrites
supplied sulphuric acid, and the ground supplied coal to heat the kiln to
the wished-for temperature. Cyrus Harding thus soon had everything ready
for setting to work.

The tool, the manufacture of which presented the most difficulty, was the
pipe of the glass-maker, an iron tube, five or six feet long, which
collects on one end the material in a state of fusion. But by means of a
long, thin piece of iron rolled up like the barrel of a gun, Pencroft
succeeded in making a tube soon ready for use.

On the 28th of March the tube was heated. A hundred parts of sand,
thirty-five of chalk, forty of sulphate of soda, mixed with two or three
parts of powdered coal, composed the substance, which was placed in
crucibles. When the high temperature of the oven had reduced it to a
liquid, or rather a pasty state, Cyrus Harding collected with the tube a
quantity of the paste: he turned it about on a metal plate, previously
arranged, so as to give it a form suitable for blowing, then he passed the
tube to Herbert, telling him to blow at the other extremity.

And Herbert, swelling out his cheeks, blew so much and so well into the
tube-taking care to twirl it round at the same time—that his breath
dilated the glassy mass. Other quantities of the substance in a state of
fusion were added to the first, and in a short time the result was a
bubble which measured a foot in diameter. Harding then took the tube out
of Herbert's hands, and, giving it a pendulous motion, he ended by
lengthening the malleable bubble so as to give it a cylindroconic shape.

The blowing operation had given a cylinder of glass terminated by two
hemispheric caps, which were easily detached by means of a sharp iron
dipped in cold water; then, by the same proceeding, this cylinder was cut
lengthways, and after having been rendered malleable by a second heating,
it was extended on a plate and spread out with a wooden roller.

The first pane was thus manufactured, and they had only to perform this
operation fifty times to have fifty panes. The windows at Granite House
were soon furnished with panes; not very white, perhaps, but still
sufficiently transparent.

As to bottles and tumblers, that was only play. They were satisfied with
them, besides, just as they came from the end of the tube. Pencroft had
asked to be allowed to "blow" in his turn, and it was great fun for him;
but he blew so hard that his productions took the most ridiculous shapes,
which he admired immensely.

Cyrus Harding and Herbert, while hunting one day, had entered the forest
of the Far West, on the left bank of the Mercy, and, as usual, the lad was
asking a thousand questions of the engineer, who answered them heartily.
Now, as Harding was not a sportsman, and as, on the other side, Herbert
was talking chemistry and natural philosophy, numbers of kangaroos,
capybaras, and agouties came within range, which, however, escaped the
lad's gun; the consequence was that the day was already advanced, and the
two hunters were in danger of having made a useless excursion, when
Herbert, stopping, and uttering a cry of joy, exclaimed,—

"Oh, Captain Harding, do you see that tree?" and he pointed to a shrub,
rather than a tree, for it was composed of a single stem, covered with a
scaly bark, which bore leaves streaked with little parallel veins.

"And what is this tree which resembles a little palm?" asked Harding.

"It is a 'cycas revoluta,' of which I have a picture in our dictionary of
Natural History!" said Herbert.

"But I can't see any fruit on this shrub!" observed his companion.

"No, captain," replied Herbert; "but its stem contains a flour with which
nature has provided us all ready ground."

"It is, then, the bread-tree?"

"Yes, the bread-tree."

"Well, my boy," replied the engineer, "this is a valuable discovery, since
our wheat harvest is not yet ripe; I hope that you are not mistaken!"

Herbert was not mistaken: he broke the stem of a cycas, which was composed
of a glandulous tissue, containing a quantity of floury pith, traversed
with woody fiber, separated by rings of the same substance, arranged
concentrically. With this fecula was mingled a mucilaginous juice of
disagreeable flavor, but which it would be easy to get rid of by pressure.
This cellular substance was regular flour of a superior quality, extremely
nourishing; its exportation was formerly forbidden by the Japanese laws.

Cyrus Harding and Herbert, after having examined that part of the Far West
where the cycas grew, took their bearings, and returned to Granite House,
where they made known their discovery.

The next day the settlers went to collect some, and returned to Granite
House with an ample supply of cycas stems. The engineer constructed a
press, with which to extract the mucilaginous juice mingled with the
fecula, and he obtained a large quantity of flour, which Neb soon
transformed into cakes and puddings. This was not quite real wheaten
bread, but it was very like it.

Now, too, the onager, the goats, and the sheep in the corral furnished
daily the milk necessary to the colony. The cart, or rather a sort of
light carriole which had replaced it, made frequent journeys to the
corral, and when it was Pencroft's turn to go he took Jup, and let him
drive, and Jup, cracking his whip, acquitted himself with his customary
intelligence.

Everything prospered, as well in the corral as in Granite House, and
certainly the settlers, if it had not been that they were so far from
their native land, had no reason to complain. They were so well suited to
this life, and were, besides, so accustomed to the island, that they could
not have left its hospitable soil without regret!

And yet so deeply is the love of his country implanted in the heart of
man, that if a ship had unexpectedly come in sight of the island, the
colonists would have made signals, would have attracted her attention, and
would have departed!

It was the 1st of April, a Sunday, Easter Day, which Harding and his
companions sanctified by rest and prayer. The day was fine, such as an
October day in the Northern Hemisphere might be.

All, towards the evening after dinner, were seated under the veranda on
the edge of Prospect Heights, and they were watching the darkness creeping
up from the horizon. Some cups of the infusion of elder-berries, which
took the place of coffee, had been served by Neb. They were speaking of
the island and of its isolated situation in the Pacific, which led Gideon
Spilett to say,—

"My dear Cyrus, have you ever, since you possessed the sextant found in
the case, again taken the position of our island?"

"No," replied the engineer.

"But it would perhaps be a good thing to do it with this instrument, which
is more perfect than that which you before used."

"What is the good?" said Pencroft. "The island is quite comfortable where
it is!"

"Well, who knows," returned the reporter, "who knows but that we may be
much nearer inhabited land than we think?"

"We shall know to-morrow," replied Cyrus Harding, "and if it had not been
for the occupations which left me no leisure, we should have known it
already."

"Good!" said Pencroft. "The captain is too good an observer to be
mistaken, and, if it has not moved from its place, the island is just
where he put it."

"We shall see."

On the next day, therefore, by means of the sextant, the engineer made the
necessary observations to verify the position which he had already
obtained, and this was the result of his operation. His first observation
had given him the situation of Lincoln Island,—

In west longitude: from 150 to 155;

In south latitude: from 30 to 35

The second gave exactly:

In longitude: 150 30'

In south latitude: 34 57'

So then, notwithstanding the imperfection of his apparatus, Cyrus Harding
had operated with so much skill that his error did not exceed five
degrees.

"Now," said Gideon Spilett, "since we possess an atlas as well as a
sextant, let us see, my dear Cyrus, the exact position which Lincoln
Island occupies in the Pacific."

Herbert fetched the atlas, and the map of the Pacific was opened, and the
engineer, compass in hand, prepared to determine their position.

Suddenly the compasses stopped, and he exclaimed,

"But an island exists in this part of the Pacific already!"

"An island?" cried Pencroft.

"Tabor Island."

"An important island?"

"No, an islet lost in the Pacific, and which perhaps has never been
visited."

"Well, we will visit it," said Pencroft.

"We?"

"Yes, captain. We will build a decked boat, and I will undertake to steer
her. At what distance are we from this Tabor Island?"

"About a hundred and fifty miles to the northeast," replied Harding.

"A hundred and fifty miles! And what's that?" returned Pencroft. "In
forty-eight hours, with a good wind, we should sight it!"

And, on this reply, it was decided that a vessel should be constructed in
time to be launched towards the month of next October, on the return of
the fine season.

Chapter 10

When Pencroft had once got a plan in his head, he had no peace till it was
executed. Now he wished to visit Tabor Island, and as a boat of a certain
size was necessary for this voyage, he determined to build one.

What wood should he employ? Elm or fir, both of which abounded in the
island? They decided for the fir, as being easy to work, but which stands
water as well as the elm.

These details settled, it was agreed that since the fine season would not
return before six months, Cyrus Harding and Pencroft should work alone at
the boat. Gideon Spilett and Herbert were to continue to hunt, and neither
Neb nor Master Jup, his assistant, were to leave the domestic duties which
had devolved upon them.

Directly the trees were chosen, they were felled, stripped of their
branches, and sawn into planks as well as sawyers would have been able to
do it. A week after, in the recess between the Chimneys and the cliff, a
dockyard was prepared, and a keel five-and-thirty feet long, furnished
with a stern-post at the stern and a stem at the bows, lay along the sand.

Cyrus Harding was not working in the dark at this new trade. He knew as
much about ship-building as about nearly everything else, and he had at
first drawn the model of his ship on paper. Besides, he was ably seconded
by Pencroft, who, having worked for several years in a dockyard in
Brooklyn, knew the practical part of the trade. It was not until after
careful calculation and deep thought that the timbers were laid on the
keel.

Pencroft, as may be believed, was all eagerness to carry out his new
enterprise, and would not leave his work for an instant.

A single thing had the honor of drawing him, but for one day only, from
his dockyard. This was the second wheat-harvest, which was gathered in on
the 15th of April. It was as much a success as the first, and yielded the
number of grains which had been predicted.

"Five bushels, captain," said Pencroft, after having scrupulously measured
his treasure.

"Five bushels," replied the engineer; "and a hundred and thirty thousand
grains a bushel will make six hundred and fifty thousand grains."

"Well, we will sow them all this time," said the sailor, "except a little
in reserve."

"Yes, Pencroft, and if the next crop gives a proportionate yield, we shall
have four thousand bushels."

"And shall we eat bread?"

"We shall eat bread."

"But we must have a mill.

"We will make one."

The third corn-field was very much larger than the two first, and the
soil, prepared with extreme care, received the precious seed. That done,
Pencroft returned to his work.

During this time Spilett and Herbert hunted in the neighborhood, and they
ventured deep into the still unknown parts of the Far West, their guns
loaded with ball, ready for any dangerous emergency. It was a vast thicket
of magnificent trees, crowded together as if pressed for room. The
exploration of these dense masses of wood was difficult in the extreme,
and the reporter never ventured there without the pocket-compass, for the
sun scarcely pierced through the thick foliage and it would have been very
difficult for them to retrace their way. It naturally happened that game
was more rare in those situations where there was hardly sufficient room
to move; two or three large herbivorous animals were however killed during
the last fortnight of April. These were koalas, specimens of which the
settlers had already seen to the north of the lake, and which stupidly
allowed themselves to be killed among the thick branches of the trees in
which they took refuge. Their skins were brought back to Granite House,
and there, by the help of sulphuric acid, they were subjected to a sort of
tanning process which rendered them capable of being used.

On the 30th of April, the two sportsmen were in the depth of the Far West,
when the reporter, preceding Herbert a few paces, arrived in a sort of
clearing, into which the trees more sparsely scattered had permitted a few
rays to penetrate. Gideon Spilett was at first surprised at the odor which
exhaled from certain plants with straight stalks, round and branchy,
bearing grape-like clusters of flowers and very small berries. The
reporter broke off one or two of these stalks and returned to the lad, to
whom he said,—

"What can this be, Herbert?"

"Well, Mr. Spilett," said Herbert, "this is a treasure which will secure
you Pencroft's gratitude forever."

"Is it tobacco?"

"Yes, and though it may not be of the first quality, it is none the less
tobacco!"

"Oh, good old Pencroft! Won't he be pleased! But we must not let him smoke
it all, he must give us our share."

"Ah! an idea occurs to me, Mr. Spilett," replied Herbert. "Don't let us
say anything to Pencroft yet; we will prepare these leaves, and one fine
day we will present him with a pipe already filled!"

"All right, Herbert, and on that day our worthy companion will have
nothing left to wish for in this world."

The reporter and the lad secured a good store of the precious plant, and
then returned to Granite House, where they smuggled it in with as much
precaution as if Pencroft had been the most vigilant and severe of
custom-house officers.

Cyrus Harding and Neb were taken into confidence, and the sailor suspected
nothing during the whole time, necessarily somewhat long, which was
required in order to dry the small leaves, chop them up, and subject them
to a certain torrefaction on hot stones. This took two months; but all
these manipulations were successfully carried on unknown to Pencroft, for,
occupied with the construction of his boat, he only returned to Granite
House at the hour of rest.

For some days they had observed an enormous animal two or three miles out
in the open sea swimming around Lincoln Island. This was a whale of the
largest size, which apparently belonged to the southern species, called
the "Cape Whale."

"What a lucky chance it would be if we could capture it!" cried the
sailor. "Ah! if we only had a proper boat and a good harpoon, I would say
'After the beast,' for he would be well worth the trouble of catching!"

"Well, Pencroft," observed Harding, "I should much like to watch you
handling a harpoon. It would be very interesting."

"I am astonished," said the reporter, "to see a whale in this
comparatively high latitude."

"Why so, Mr. Spilett?" replied Herbert. "We are exactly in that part of
the Pacific which English and American whalemen call the whale field, and
it is here, between New Zealand and South America, that the whales of the
Southern Hemisphere are met with in the greatest numbers."

And Pencroft returned to his work, not without uttering a sigh of regret,
for every sailor is a born fisherman, and if the pleasure of fishing is in
exact proportion to the size of the animal, one can judge how a whaler
feels in sight of a whale. And if this had only been for pleasure! But
they could not help feeling how valuable such a prize would have been to
the colony, for the oil, fat, and bones would have been put to many uses.

Now it happened that this whale appeared to have no wish to leave the
waters of the island. Therefore, whether from the windows of Granite
House, or from Prospect Heights, Herbert and Gideon Spilett, when they
were not hunting, or Neb, unless presiding over his fires, never left the
telescope, but watched all the animal's movements. The cetacean, having
entered far into Union Bay, made rapid furrows across it from Mandible
Cape to Claw Cape, propelled by its enormously powerful flukes, on which
it supported itself, and making its way through the water at the rate
little short of twelve knots. Sometimes also it approached so near
to the island that it could be clearly distinguished. It was the southern
whale, which is completely black, the head being more depressed than that
of the northern whale.

They could also see it throwing up from its air-holes to a great height a
cloud of vapor, or of water, for, strange as it may appear, naturalists
and whalers are not agreed on this subject. Is it air or is it water which
is thus driven out? It is generally admitted to be vapor, which,
condensing suddenly by contact with the cold air, falls again as rain.

However, the presence of this mammifer preoccupied the colonists. It
irritated Pencroft especially, as he could think of nothing else while at
work. He ended by longing for it, like a child for a thing which it has
been denied. At night he talked about it in his sleep, and certainly if he
had had the means of attacking it, if the sloop had been in a fit state to
put to sea, he would not have hesitated to set out in pursuit.

But what the colonists could not do for themselves chance did for them,
and on the 3rd of May shouts from Neb, who had stationed himself at the
kitchen window, announced that the whale was stranded on the beach of the
island.

Herbert and Gideon Spilett, who were just about to set out hunting, left
their guns, Pencroft threw down his ax, and Harding and Neb joining their
companions, all rushed towards the scene of action.

The stranding had taken place on the beach of Flotsam Point, three miles
from Granite House, and at high tide. It was therefore probable that the
cetacean would not be able to extricate itself easily; at any rate it was
best to hasten, so as to cut off its retreat if necessary. They ran with
pick-axes and iron-tipped poles in their hands, passed over the Mercy
bridge, descended the right bank of the river, along the beach, and in
less than twenty minutes the settlers were close to the enormous animal,
above which flocks of birds already hovered.

"What a monster!" cried Neb.

And the exclamation was natural, for it was a southern whale, eighty feet
long, a giant of the species, probably not weighing less than a hundred
and fifty thousand pounds!

In the meanwhile, the monster thus stranded did not move, nor attempt by
struggling to regain the water while the tide was still high.

It was dead, and a harpoon was sticking out of its left side.

"There are whalers in these quarters, then?" said Gideon Spilett directly.

"Oh, Mr. Spilett, that doesn't prove anything!" replied Pencroft. "Whales
have been known to go thousands of miles with a harpoon in the side, and
this one might even have been struck in the north of the Atlantic and come
to die in the south of the Pacific, and it would be nothing astonishing."

Pencroft, having torn the harpoon from the animal's side, read this
inscription on it:

MARIA STELLA, VINEYARD

"A vessel from the Vineyard! A ship from my country!" he cried. "The
'Maria Stella!' A fine whaler, 'pon my word; I know her well! Oh, my
friends, a vessel from the Vineyard!—a whaler from the Vineyard!"

And the sailor brandishing the harpoon, repeated, not without emotion, the
name which he loved so well—the name of his birthplace.

But as it could not be expected that the "Maria Stella" would come to
reclaim the animal harpooned by her, they resolved to begin cutting it up
before decomposition should commence. The birds, who had watched this rich
prey for several days, had determined to take possession of it without
further delay, and it was necessary to drive them off by firing at them
repeatedly.

The whale was a female, and a large quantity of milk was taken from it,
which, according to the opinion of the naturalist Duffenbach, might pass
for cow's milk, and, indeed, it differs from it neither in taste, color,
nor density.

Pencroft had formerly served on board a whaling-ship, and he could
methodically direct the operation of cutting up, a sufficiently
disagreeable operation lasting three days, but from which the settlers did
not flinch, not even Gideon Spilett, who, as the sailor said, would end by
making a "real good castaway."

The blubber, cut in parallel slices of two feet and a half in thickness,
then divided into pieces which might weigh about a thousand pounds each,
was melted down in large earthen pots brought to the spot, for they did
not wish to taint the environs of Granite House, and in this fusion it
lost nearly a third of its weight.

But there was an immense quantity of it; the tongue alone yielded six
thousand pounds of oil, and the lower lip four thousand. Then, besides the
fat, which would insure for a long time a store of stearine and glycerine,
there were still the bones, for which a use could doubtless be found,
although there were neither umbrellas nor stays used at Granite House. The
upper part of the mouth of the cetacean was, indeed, provided on both
sides with eight hundred horny blades, very elastic, of a fibrous texture,
and fringed at the edge like great combs, at which the teeth, six feet
long, served to retain the thousands of animalculae, little fish, and
molluscs, on which the whale fed.

The operation finished, to the great satisfaction of the operators, the
remains of the animal were left to the birds, who would soon make every
vestige of it disappear, and their usual daily occupations were resumed by
the inmates of Granite House.

However, before returning to the dockyard, Cyrus Harding conceived the
idea of fabricating certain machines, which greatly excited the curiosity
of his companions. He took a dozen of the whale's bones, cut them into six
equal parts, and sharpened their ends.

"This machine is not my own invention, and it is frequently employed by
the Aleutian hunters in Russian America. You see these bones, my friends;
well, when it freezes, I will bend them, and then wet them with water till
they are entirely covered with ice, which will keep them bent, and I will
strew them on the snow, having previously covered them with fat. Now, what
will happen if a hungry animal swallows one of these baits? Why, the heat
of his stomach will melt the ice, and the bone, springing straight, will
pierce him with its sharp points."

"Well! I do call that ingenious!" said Pencroft.

"And it will spare the powder and shot," rejoined Cyrus Harding.

"That will be better than traps!" added Neb.

In the meanwhile the boat-building progressed, and towards the end of the
month half the planking was completed. It could already be seen that her
shape was excellent, and that she would sail well.

Pencroft worked with unparalleled ardor, and only a sturdy frame could
have borne such fatigue; but his companions were preparing in secret a
reward for his labors, and on the 31st of May he was to meet with one of
the greatest joys of his life.

On that day, after dinner, just as he was about to leave the table,
Pencroft felt a hand on his shoulder.

Pencroft jumped up, and his great good-natured face grew pale when he saw
the reporter presenting him with a ready-filled pipe, and Herbert with a
glowing coal.

The sailor endeavored to speak, but could not get out a word; so, seizing
the pipe, he carried it to his lips, then applying the coal, he drew five
or six great whiffs. A fragrant blue cloud soon arose, and from its depths
a voice was heard repeating excitedly,—

"Tobacco! real tobacco!"

"Yes, Pencroft," returned Cyrus Harding, "and very good tobacco too!"

"O, divine Providence; sacred Author of all things!" cried the sailor.
"Nothing more is now wanting to our island."

And Pencroft smoked, and smoked, and smoked.

"And who made this discovery?" he asked at length. "You, Herbert, no
doubt?"

"No, Pencroft, it was Mr. Spilett."

"Mr. Spilett!" exclaimed the sailor, seizing the reporter, and clasping
him to his breast with such a squeeze that he had never felt anything like
it before.

"Oh Pencroft," said Spilett, recovering his breath at last, "a truce for
one moment. You must share your gratitude with Herbert, who recognized the
plant, with Cyrus, who prepared it, and with Neb, who took a great deal of
trouble to keep our secret."

"Well, my friends, I will repay you some day," replied the sailor. "Now we
are friends for life."

Chapter 11

Winter arrived with the month of June, which is the December of the
northern zones, and the great business was the making of warm and solid
clothing.

The musmons in the corral had been stripped of their wool, and this
precious textile material was now to be transformed into stuff.

Of course Cyrus Harding, having at his disposal neither carders, combers,
polishers, stretchers, twisters, mule-jenny, nor self-acting machine to
spin the wool, nor loom to weave it, was obliged to proceed in a simpler
way, so as to do without spinning and weaving. And indeed he proposed to
make use of the property which the filaments of wool possess when
subjected to a powerful pressure of mixing together, and of manufacturing
by this simple process the material called felt. This felt could then be
obtained by a simple operation which, if it diminished the flexibility of
the stuff, increased its power of retaining heat in proportion. Now the
wool furnished by the musmons was composed of very short hairs, and was in
a good condition to be felted.

The engineer, aided by his companions, including Pencroft, who was once
more obliged to leave his boat, commenced the preliminary operations, the
subject of which was to rid the wool of that fat and oily substance with
which it is impregnated, and which is called grease. This cleaning was
done in vats filled with water, which was maintained at the temperature of
seventy degrees, and in which the wool was soaked for four-and-twenty
hours; it was then thoroughly washed in baths of soda, and, when
sufficiently dried by pressure, it was in a state to be compressed, that
is to say, to produce a solid material, rough, no doubt, and such as would
have no value in a manufacturing center of Europe or America, but which
would be highly esteemed in the Lincoln Island markets.

This sort of material must have been known from the most ancient times,
and, in fact, the first woolen stuffs were manufactured by the process
which Harding was now about to employ. Where Harding's engineering
qualifications now came into play was in the construction of the machine
for pressing the wool; for he knew how to turn ingeniously to profit the
mechanical force, hitherto unused, which the waterfall on the beach
possessed to move a fulling-mill.

Nothing could be more rudimentary. The wool was placed in troughs, and
upon it fell in turns heavy wooden mallets; such was the machine in
question, and such it had been for centuries until the time when the
mallets were replaced by cylinders of compression, and the material was no
longer subjected to beating, but to regular rolling.

The operation, ably directed by Cyrus Harding, was a complete success. The
wool, previously impregnated with a solution of soap, intended on the one
hand to facilitate the interlacing, the compression, and the softening of
the wool, and on the other to prevent its diminution by the beating,
issued from the mill in the shape of thick felt cloth. The roughnesses
with which the staple of wool is naturally filled were so thoroughly
entangled and interlaced together that a material was formed equally
suitable either for garments or bedclothes. It was certainly neither
merino, muslin, cashmere, rep, satin, alpaca, cloth, nor flannel. It was
"Lincolnian felt," and Lincoln Island possessed yet another manufacture.
The colonists had now warm garments and thick bedclothes, and they could
without fear await the approach of the winter of 1866-67.

The severe cold began to be felt about the 20th of June, and, to his great
regret, Pencroft was obliged to suspend his boat-building, which he hoped
to finish in time for next spring.

The sailor's great idea was to make a voyage of discovery to Tabor Island,
although Harding could not approve of a voyage simply for curiosity's
sake, for there was evidently nothing to be found on this desert and
almost arid rock. A voyage of a hundred and fifty miles in a comparatively
small vessel, over unknown seas, could not but cause him some anxiety.
Suppose that their vessel, once out at sea, should be unable to reach
Tabor Island, and could not return to Lincoln Island, what would become of
her in the midst of the Pacific, so fruitful of disasters?

Harding often talked over this project with Pencroft, and he found him
strangely bent upon undertaking this voyage, for which determination he
himself could give no sufficient reason.

"Now," said the engineer one day to him, "I must observe, my friend, that
after having said so much, in praise of Lincoln Island, after having
spoken so often of the sorrow you would feel if you were obliged to
forsake it, you are the first to wish to leave it."

"Only to leave it for a few days," replied Pencroft, "only for a few days,
captain. Time to go and come back, and see what that islet is like!"

"But it is not nearly as good as Lincoln Island."

"I know that beforehand."

"Then why venture there?"

"To know what is going on in Tabor Island."

"But nothing is going on there; nothing could happen there."

"Who knows?"

"And if you are caught in a hurricane?"

"There is no fear of that in the fine season," replied Pencroft. "But,
captain, as we must provide against everything, I shall ask your
permission to take Herbert only with me on this voyage."

"Pencroft," replied the engineer, placing his hand on the sailor's
shoulder, "if any misfortune happens to you, or to this lad, whom chance
has made our child, do you think we could ever cease to blame ourselves?"

"Captain Harding," replied Pencroft, with unshaken confidence, "we shall
not cause you that sorrow. Besides, we will speak further of this voyage,
when the time comes to make it. And I fancy, when you have seen our
tight-rigged little craft, when you have observed how she behaves at sea,
when we sail round our island, for we will do so together—I fancy, I
say, that you will no longer hesitate to let me go. I don't conceal from
you that your boat will be a masterpiece."

"Say 'our' boat, at least, Pencroft," replied the engineer, disarmed for
the moment. The conversation ended thus, to be resumed later on, without
convincing either the sailor or the engineer.

The first snow fell towards the end of the month of June. The corral had
previously been largely supplied with stores, so that daily visits to it
were not requisite; but it was decided that more than a week should never
be allowed to pass without someone going to it.

Traps were again set, and the machines manufactured by Harding were tried.
The bent whalebones, imprisoned in a case of ice, and covered with a thick
outer layer of fat, were placed on the border of the forest at a spot
where animals usually passed on their way to the lake.

To the engineer's great satisfaction, this invention, copied from the
Aleutian fishermen, succeeded perfectly. A dozen foxes, a few wild boars,
and even a jaguar, were taken in this way, the animals being found dead,
their stomachs pierced by the unbent bones.

An incident must here be related, not only as interesting in itself, but
because it was the first attempt made by the colonists to communicate with
the rest of mankind.

Gideon Spilett had already several times pondered whether to throw into
the sea a letter enclosed in a bottle, which currents might perhaps carry
to an inhabited coast, or to confide it to pigeons.

But how could it be seriously hoped that either pigeons or bottles could
cross the distance of twelve hundred miles which separated the island from
any inhabited land? It would have been pure folly.

But on the 30th of June the capture was effected, not without difficulty,
of an albatross, which a shot from Herbert's gun had slightly wounded in
the foot. It was a magnificent bird, measuring ten feet from wing to wing,
and which could traverse seas as wide as the Pacific.

Herbert would have liked to keep this superb bird, as its wound would soon
heal, and he thought he could tame it; but Spilett explained to him that
they should not neglect this opportunity of attempting to communicate by
this messenger with the lands of the Pacific; for if the albatross had
come from some inhabited region, there was no doubt but that it would
return there so soon as it was set free.

Perhaps in his heart Gideon Spilett, in whom the journalist sometimes came
to the surface, was not sorry to have the opportunity of sending forth to
take its chance an exciting article relating the adventures of the
settlers in Lincoln Island. What a success for the authorized reporter of
the New York Herald, and for the number which should contain the article,
if it should ever reach the address of its editor, the Honorable James
Bennett!

Gideon Spilett then wrote out a concise account, which was placed in a
strong waterproof bag, with an earnest request to whoever might find it to
forward it to the office of the New York Herald. This little bag was
fastened to the neck of the albatross, and not to its foot, for these
birds are in the habit of resting on the surface of the sea; then liberty
was given to this swift courier of the air, and it was not without some
emotion that the colonists watched it disappear in the misty west.

"Where is he going to?" asked Pencroft.

"Towards New Zealand," replied Herbert.

"A good voyage to you," shouted the sailor, who himself did not expect any
great result from this mode of correspondence.

With the winter, work had been resumed in the interior of Granite House,
mending clothes and different occupations, among others making the sails
for their vessel, which were cut from the inexhaustible balloon-case.

During the month of July the cold was intense, but there was no lack of
either wood or coal. Cyrus Harding had established a second fireplace in
the dining-room, and there the long winter evenings were spent. Talking
while they worked, reading when the hands remained idle, the time passed
with profit to all.

It was real enjoyment to the settlers when in their room, well lighted
with candles, well warmed with coal, after a good dinner, elderberry
coffee smoking in the cups, the pipes giving forth an odoriferous smoke,
they could hear the storm howling without. Their comfort would have been
complete, if complete comfort could ever exist for those who are far from
their fellow-creatures, and without any means of communication with them.
They often talked of their country, of the friends whom they had left, of
the grandeur of the American Republic, whose influence could not but
increase; and Cyrus Harding, who had been much mixed up with the affairs
of the Union, greatly interested his auditors by his recitals, his views,
and his prognostics.

It chanced one day that Spilett was led to say—

"But now, my dear Cyrus, all this industrial and commercial movement to
which you predict a continual advance, does it not run the danger of being
sooner or later completely stopped?"

"Stopped! And by what?"

"By the want of coal, which may justly be called the most precious of
minerals."

"Yes, the most precious indeed," replied the engineer; "and it would seem
that nature wished to prove that it was so by making the diamond, which is
simply pure carbon crystallized."

"You don't mean to say, captain," interrupted Pencroft, "that we burn
diamonds in our stoves in the shape of coal?"

"No, my friend," replied Harding.

"However," resumed Gideon Spilett, "you do not deny that some day the coal
will be entirely consumed?"

"Oh! the veins of coal are still considerable, and the hundred thousand
miners who annually extract from them a hundred millions of hundredweights
have not nearly exhausted them."

"With the increasing consumption of coal," replied Gideon Spilett, "it can
be foreseen that the hundred thousand workmen will soon become two hundred
thousand, and that the rate of extraction will be doubled."

"Doubtless; but after the European mines, which will be soon worked more
thoroughly with new machines, the American and Australian mines will for a
long time yet provide for the consumption in trade."

"For how long a time?" asked the reporter.

"For at least two hundred and fifty or three hundred years."

"That is reassuring for us, but a bad look-out for our
great-grandchildren!" observed Pencroft.

"They will discover something else," said Herbert.

"It is to be hoped so," answered Spilett, "for without coal there would be
no machinery, and without machinery there would be no railways, no
steamers, no manufactories, nothing of that which is indispensable to
modern civilization!"

"But what will they find?" asked Pencroft. "Can you guess, captain?"

"Nearly, my friend."

"And what will they burn instead of coal?"

"Water," replied Harding.

"Water!" cried Pencroft, "water as fuel for steamers and engines! water to
heat water!"

"Yes, but water decomposed into its primitive elements," replied Cyrus
Harding, "and decomposed doubtless, by electricity, which will then have
become a powerful and manageable force, for all great discoveries, by some
inexplicable laws, appear to agree and become complete at the same time.
Yes, my friends, I believe that water will one day be employed as fuel,
that hydrogen and oxygen which constitute it, used singly or together,
will furnish an inexhaustible source of heat and light, of an intensity of
which coal is not capable. Some day the coalrooms of steamers and the
tenders of locomotives will, instead of coal, be stored with these two
condensed gases, which will burn in the furnaces with enormous calorific
power. There is, therefore, nothing to fear. As long as the earth is
inhabited it will supply the wants of its inhabitants, and there will be
no want of either light or heat as long as the productions of the
vegetable, mineral or animal kingdoms do not fail us. I believe, then,
that when the deposits of coal are exhausted we shall heat and warm
ourselves with water. Water will be the coal of the future."

"I should like to see that," observed the sailor.

"You were born too soon, Pencroft," returned Neb, who only took part in
the discussion by these words.

However, it was not Neb's speech which interrupted the conversation, but
Top's barking, which broke out again with that strange intonation which
had before perplexed the engineer. At the same time Top began to run round
the mouth of the well, which opened at the extremity of the interior
passage.

"What can Top be barking in that way for?" asked Pencroft.

"And Jup be growling like that?" added Herbert.

In fact the orang, joining the dog, gave unequivocal signs of agitation,
and, singular to say, the two animals appeared more uneasy than angry.

"It is evident," said Gideon Spilett, "that this well is in direct
communication with the sea, and that some marine animal comes from time to
time to breathe at the bottom."

"That's evident," replied the sailor, "and there can be no other
explanation to give. Quiet there, Top!" added Pencroft, turning to the
dog, "and you, Jup, be off to your room!"

The ape and the dog were silent. Jup went off to bed, but Top remained in
the room, and continued to utter low growls at intervals during the rest
of the evening. There was no further talk on the subject, but the
incident, however, clouded the brow of the engineer.

During the remainder of the month of July there was alternate rain and
frost. The temperature was not so low as during the preceding winter, and
its maximum did not exceed eight degrees Fahrenheit. But although this
winter was less cold, it was more troubled by storms and squalls; the sea
besides often endangered the safety of the Chimneys. At times it almost
seemed as if an under-current raised these monstrous billows which
thundered against the wall of Granite House.

When the settlers, leaning from their windows, gazed on the huge watery
masses breaking beneath their eyes, they could not but admire the
magnificent spectacle of the ocean in its impotent fury. The waves
rebounded in dazzling foam, the beach entirely disapppearing under the
raging flood, and the cliff appearing to emerge from the sea itself, the
spray rising to a height of more than a hundred feet.

During these storms it was difficult and even dangerous to venture out,
owing to the frequently falling trees; however, the colonists never
allowed a week to pass without having paid a visit to the corral. Happily,
this enclosure, sheltered by the southeastern spur of Mount Franklin, did
not greatly suffer from the violence of the hurricanes, which spared its
trees, sheds, and palisades; but the poultry-yard on Prospect Heights,
being directly exposed to the gusts of wind from the east, suffered
considerable damage. The pigeon-house was twice unroofed and the paling
blown down. All this required to be remade more solidly than before, for,
as may be clearly seen, Lincoln Island was situated in one of the most
dangerous parts of the Pacific. It really appeared as if it formed the
central point of vast cyclones, which beat it perpetually as the whip does
the top, only here it was the top which was motionless and the whip which
moved. During the first week of the month of August the weather became
more moderate, and the atmosphere recovered the calm which it appeared to
have lost forever. With the calm the cold again became intense, and the
thermometer fell to eight degrees Fahrenheit, below zero.

On the 3rd of August an excursion which had been talked of for several
days was made into the southeastern part of the island, towards Tadorn
Marsh. The hunters were tempted by the aquatic game which took up their
winter quarters there. Wild duck, snipe, teal and grebe abounded there,
and it was agreed that a day should be devoted to an expedition against
these birds.

Not only Gideon Spilett and Herbert, but Pencroft and Neb also took part
in this excursion. Cyrus Harding alone, alleging some work as an excuse,
did not join them, but remained at Granite House.

The hunters proceeded in the direction of Port Balloon, in order to reach
the marsh, after having promised to be back by the evening. Top and Jup
accompanied them. As soon as they had passed over the Mercy Bridge, the
engineer raised it and returned, intending to put into execution a project
for the performance of which he wished to be alone.

Now this project was to minutely explore the interior well, the mouth of
which was on a level with the passage of Granite House, and which
communicated with the sea, since it formerly supplied a way to the waters
of the lake.

Why did Top so often run round this opening? Why did he utter such strange
barks when a sort of uneasiness seemed to draw him towards this well? Why
did Jup join Top in a sort of common anxiety? Had this well branches
besides the communication with the sea? Did it spread towards other parts
of the island? This is what Cyrus Harding wished to know. He had resolved,
therefore, to attempt the exploration of the well during the absence of
his companions, and an opportunity for doing so had now presented itself.

It was easy to descend to the bottom of the well by employing the rope
ladder which had not been used since the establishment of the lift. The
engineer drew the ladder to the hole, the diameter of which measured
nearly six feet, and allowed it to unroll itself after having securely
fastened its upper extremity. Then, having lighted a lantern, taken a
revolver, and placed a cutlass in his belt, he began the descent.

The sides were everywhere entire; but points of rock jutted out here and
there, and by means of these points it would have been quite possible for
an active creature to climb to the mouth of the well.

The engineer remarked this; but although he carefully examined these
points by the light of his lantern, he could find no impression, no
fracture which could give any reason to suppose that they had either
recently or at any former time been used as a staircase. Cyrus Harding
descended deeper, throwing the light of his lantern on all sides.

He saw nothing suspicious.

When the engineer had reached the last rounds he came upon the water,
which was then perfectly calm. Neither at its level nor in any other part
of the well, did any passage open, which could lead to the interior of the
cliff. The wall which Harding struck with the hilt of his cutlass sounded
solid. It was compact granite, through which no living being could force a
way. To arrive at the bottom of the well and then climb up to its mouth it
was necessary to pass through the channel under the rocky subsoil of the
beach, which placed it in communication with the sea, and this was only
possible for marine animals. As to the question of knowing where this
channel ended, at what point of the shore, and at what depth beneath the
water, it could not be answered.

Then Cyrus Harding, having ended his survey, re-ascended, drew up the
ladder, covered the mouth of the well, and returned thoughtfully to the
diningroom, saying to himself,—

"I have seen nothing, and yet there is something there!"

Chapter 12

In the evening the hunters returned, having enjoyed good sport, and being
literally loaded with game; indeed, they had as much as four men could
possibly carry. Top wore a necklace of teal and Jup wreaths of snipe round
his body.

"Here, master," cried Neb; "here's something to employ our time! Preserved
and made into pies we shall have a welcome store! But I must have some one
to help me. I count on you, Pencroft."

"No, Neb," replied the sailor; "I have the rigging of the vessel to finish
and to look after, and you will have to do without me."

"And you, Mr. Herbert?"

"I must go to the corral to-morrow, Neb," replied the lad.

"It will be you then, Mr. Spilett, who will help me?"

"To oblige you, Neb, I will," replied the reporter; "but I warn you that
if you disclose your recipes to me, I shall publish them."

"Whenever you like, Mr. Spilett," replied Neb; "whenever you like."

And so the next day Gideon Spilett became Neb's assistant and was
installed in his culinary laboratory. The engineer had previously made
known to him the result of the exploration which he had made the day
before, and on this point the reporter shared Harding's opinion, that
although he had found nothing, a secret still remained to be discovered!

The frost continued for another week, and the settlers did not leave
Granite House unless to look after the poultry-yard. The dwelling was
filled with appetizing odors, which were emitted from the learned
manipulation of Neb and the reporter. But all the results of the chase
were not made into preserved provisions; and as the game kept perfectly in
the intense cold, wild duck and other fowl were eaten fresh, and declared
superior to all other aquatic birds in the known world.

During this week, Pencroft, aided by Herbert, who handled the sailmaker's
needle with much skill, worked with such energy that the sails of the
vessel were finished. There was no want of cordage. Thanks to the rigging
which had been discovered with the case of the balloon, the ropes and
cables from the net were all of good quality, and the sailor turned them
all to account. To the sails were attached strong bolt ropes, and there
still remained enough from which to make the halyards, shrouds, and
sheets, etc. The blocks were manufactured by Cyrus Harding under
Pencroft's directions by means of the turning lathe. It therefore happened
that the rigging was entirely prepared before the vessel was finished.
Pencroft also manufactured a flag, that flag so dear to every true
American, containing the stars and stripes of their glorious Union. The
colors for it were supplied from certain plants used in dyeing, and which
were very abundant in the island; only to the thirty-seven stars,
representing the thirty-seven States of the Union, which shine on the
American flag, the sailor added a thirty-eighth, the star of "the State of
Lincoln," for he considered his island as already united to the great
republic. "And," said he, "it is so already in heart, if not in deed!"

In the meantime, the flag was hoisted at the central window of Granite
House, and the settlers saluted it with three cheers.

The cold season was now almost at an end, and it appeared as if this
second winter was to pass without any unusual occurrence, when on the
night of the 11th of August, the plateau of Prospect Heights was menaced
with complete destruction.

After a busy day the colonists were sleeping soundly, when towards four
o'clock in the morning they were suddenly awakened by Top's barking.

The dog was not this time barking near the mouth of the well, but at the
threshold of the door, at which he was scratching as if he wished to burst
it open. Jup was also uttering piercing cries.

"Hello, Top!" cried Neb, who was the first awake. But the dog continued to
bark more furiously than ever.

"What's the matter now?" asked Harding.

And all dressing in haste rushed to the windows, which they opened.

Beneath their eyes was spread a sheet of snow which looked gray in the dim
light. The settlers could see nothing, but they heard a singular yelping
noise away in the darkness. It was evident that the beach had been invaded
by a number of animals which could not be seen.

"What are they?" cried Pencroft.

"Wolves, jaguars, or apes?" replied Neb.

"They have nearly reached the plateau," said the reporter.

"And our poultry-yard," exclaimed Herbert, "and our garden!"

"Where can they have crossed?" asked Pencroft.

"They must have crossed the bridge on the shore," replied the engineer,
"which one of us must have forgotten to close."

"True," said Spilett, "I remember having left it open."

"A fine job you have made of it, Mr. Spilett," cried the sailor.

"What is done cannot be undone," replied Cyrus Harding. "We must consult
what it will now be best to do."

Such were the questions and answers which were rapidly exchanged between
Harding and his companions. It was certain that the bridge had been
crossed, that the shore had been invaded by animals, and that whatever
they might be they could by ascending the left bank of the Mercy reach
Prospect Heights. They must therefore be advanced against quickly and
fought with if necessary.

"But what are these beasts?" was asked a second time, as the yelpings were
again heard more loudly than before. These yelps made Herbert start, and
he remembered having heard them before during his first visit to the
sources of the Red Creek.

"They are colpeo foxes!" he exclaimed.

"Forward!" shouted the sailor.

And all arming themselves with hatchets, carbines, and revolvers, threw
themselves into the lift and soon set foot on the shore.

Colpeos are dangerous animals when in great numbers and irritated by
hunger, nevertheless the colonists did not hesitate to throw themselves
into the midst of the troop, and their first shots vividly lighting up the
darkness made their assailants draw back.

The chief thing was to hinder these plunderers from reaching the plateau,
for the garden and the poultry-yard would then have been at their mercy,
and immense, perhaps irreparable mischief, would inevitably be the result,
especially with regard to the corn-field. But as the invasion of the
plateau could only be made by the left bank of the Mercy, it was
sufficient to oppose the colpeos on the narrow bank between the river and
the cliff of granite.

This was plain to all, and, by Cyrus Harding's orders, they reached the
spot indicated by him, while the colpeos rushed fiercely through the
gloom. Harding, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Pencroft and Neb posted
themselves in impregnable line. Top, his formidable jaws open, preceded
the colonists, and he was followed by Jup, armed with a knotty cudgel, which
he brandished like a club.

The night was extremely dark, it was only by the flashes from the
revolvers as each person fired that they could see their assailants, who
were at least a hundred in number, and whose eyes were glowing like hot
coals.

"They must not pass!" shouted Pencroft.

"They shall not pass!" returned the engineer.

But if they did not pass it was not for want of having attempted it. Those
in the rear pushed on the foremost assailants, and it was an incessant
struggle with revolvers and hatchets. Several colpeos already lay dead on
the ground, but their number did not appear to diminish, and it might have
been supposed that reinforcements were continually arriving over the
bridge.

The colonists were soon obliged to fight at close quarters, not without
receiving some wounds, though happily very slight ones. Herbert had, with
a shot from his revolver, rescued Neb, on whose back a colpeo had sprung
like a tiger cat. Top fought with actual fury, flying at the throats of
the foxes and strangling them instantaneously. Jup wielded his weapon
valiantly, and it was in vain that they endeavored to keep him in the
rear. Endowed doubtless with sight which enabled him to pierce the
obscurity, he was always in the thick of the fight uttering from time to
time—a sharp hissing sound, which was with him the sign of great
rejoicing.

At one moment he advanced so far, that by the light from a revolver he was
seen surrounded by five or six large colpeos, with whom he was coping with
great coolness.

However, the struggle was ended at last, and victory was on the side of
the settlers, but not until they had fought for two long hours! The first
signs of the approach of day doubtless determined the retreat of their
assailants, who scampered away towards the North, passing over the bridge,
which Neb ran immediately to raise. When day had sufficiently lighted up
the field of battle, the settlers counted as many as fifty dead bodies
scattered about on the shore.

"And Jup!" cried Pencroft; "where is Jup?" Jup had disappeared. His friend
Neb called him, and for the first time Jup did not reply to his friend's
call.

Everyone set out in search of Jup, trembling lest he should be found among
the slain; they cleared the place of the bodies which stained the snow
with their blood. Jup was found in the midst of a heap of colpeos whose
broken jaws and crushed bodies showed that they had to do with the
terrible club of the intrepid animal.

Poor Jup still held in his hand the stump of his broken cudgel, but
deprived of his weapon he had been overpowered by numbers, and his chest
was covered with severe wounds.

"He is living," cried Neb, who was bending over him.

"And we will save him," replied the sailor. "We will nurse him as if he
was one of ourselves."

It appeared as if Jup understood, for he leaned his head on Pencroft's
shoulder as if to thank him. The sailor was wounded himself, but his wound
was insignificant, as were those of his companions; for thanks to their
firearms they had been almost always able to keep their assailants at a
distance. It was therefore only the orang whose condition was serious.

Jup, carried by Neb and Pencroft, was placed in the lift, and only a
slight moan now and then escaped his lips. He was gently drawn up to
Granite House. There he was laid on a mattress taken from one of the beds,
and his wounds were bathed with the greatest care. It did not appear that
any vital part had been reached, but Jup was very weak from loss of blood,
and a high fever soon set in after his wounds had been dressed. He was
laid down, strict diet was imposed, "just like a real person," as Neb
said, and they made him swallow several cups of a cooling drink, for which
the ingredients were supplied from the vegetable medicine chest of Granite
House. Jup was at first restless, but his breathing gradually became more
regular, and he was left sleeping quietly. From time to time Top, walking
on tip-toe, as one might say, came to visit his friend, and seemed to
approve of all the care that had been taken of him. One of Jup's hands
hung over the side of his bed, and Top licked it with a sympathizing air.

They employed the day in interring the dead, who were dragged to the
forest of the Far West, and there buried deep.

This attack, which might have had such serious consequences, was a lesson
to the settlers, who from this time never went to bed until one of their
number had made sure that all the bridges were raised, and that no
invasion was possible.

However, Jup, after having given them serious anxiety for several days,
began to recover. His constitution brought him through, the fever
gradually subsided, and Gideon Spilett, who was a bit of a doctor,
pronounced him quite out of danger. On the 16th of August, Jup began to
eat. Neb made him nice little sweet dishes, which the invalid devoured
with great relish, for if he had a pet failing it was that of being
somewhat of a gourmand, and Neb had never done anything to cure him of
this fault.

"What would you have?" said he to Gideon Spilett, who sometimes
expostulated with him for spoiling the ape. "Poor Jup has no other
pleasure than that of the palate, and I am only too glad to be able to
reward his services in this way!"

Ten days after taking to his bed, on the 21st of August, Master Jup arose.
His wounds were healed, and it was evident that he would not be long in
regaining his usual strength and agility. Like all convalescents, he was
tremendously hungry, and the reporter allowed him to eat as much as he
liked, for he trusted to that instinct, which is too often wanting in
reasoning beings, to keep the orang from any excess. Neb was delighted to
see his pupil's appetite returning.

"Eat away, my Jup," said he, "and don't spare anything; you have shed your
blood for us, and it is the least I can do to make you strong again!"

On the 25th of August Neb's voice was heard calling to his companions.

"Captain, Mr. Spilett, Mr. Herbert, Pencroft, come! come!"

The colonists, who were together in the dining-room, rose at Neb's call,
who was then in Jup's room.

"What's the matter?" asked the reporter.

"Look," replied Neb, with a shout of laughter. And what did they see?
Master Jup smoking calmly and seriously, sitting crosslegged like a Turk
at the entrance to Granite House!

"My pipe," cried Pencroft. "He has taken my pipe! Hello, my honest Jup, I
make you a present of it! Smoke away, old boy, smoke away!"

And Jup gravely puffed out clouds of smoke which seemed to give him great
satisfaction. Harding did not appear to be much astonished at this
incident, and he cited several examples of tame apes, to whom the use of
tobacco had become quite familiar.

But from this day Master Jup had a pipe of his own, the sailor's ex-pipe,
which was hung in his room near his store of tobacco. He filled it
himself, lighted it with a glowing coal, and appeared to be the happiest
of quadrumana. It may readily be understood that this similarity of tastes
of Jup and Pencroft served to tighten the bonds of friendship which
already existed between the honest ape and the worthy sailor.

"Perhaps he is really a man," said Pencroft sometimes to Neb. "Should you
be surprised to hear him beginning to speak to us some day?"

"My word, no," replied Neb. "What astonishes me is that he hasn't spoken
to us before, for now he wants nothing but speech!"

"It would amuse me all the same," resumed the sailor, "if some fine day he
said to me, 'Suppose we change pipes, Pencroft.'"

"Yes," replied Neb, "what a pity he was born dumb!"

With the month of September the winter ended, and the works were again
eagerly commenced. The building of the vessel advanced rapidly, she was
already completely decked over, and all the inside parts of the hull were
firmly united with ribs bent by means of steam, which answered all the
purposes of a mold.

As there was no want of wood, Pencroft proposed to the engineer to give a
double lining to the hull, to insure the strength of the vessel.

Harding, not knowing what the future might have in store for them,
approved the sailor's idea of making the craft as strong as possible. The
interior and deck of the vessel was entirely finished towards the 15th of
September. For calking the seams they made oakum of dry seaweed, which was
hammered in between the planks; then these seams were covered with boiling
tar, which was obtained in great abundance from the pines in the forest.

The management of the vessel was very simple. She had from the first been
ballasted with heavy blocks of granite walled up, in a bed of lime, twelve
thousand pounds of which they stowed away.

A deck was placed over this ballast, and the interior was divided into two
cabins; two benches extended along them and served also as lockers. The
foot of the mast supported the partition which separated the two cabins,
which were reached by two hatchways let into the deck.

Pencroft had no trouble in finding a tree suitable for the mast. He chose
a straight young fir, with no knots, and which he had only to square at
the step, and round off at the top. The ironwork of the mast, the rudder
and the hull had been roughly but strongly forged at the Chimneys. Lastly,
yards, masts, boom, spars, oars, etc., were all furnished by the first
week in October, and it was agreed that a trial trip should be taken round
the island, so as to ascertain how the vessel would behave at sea, and how
far they might depend upon her.

During all this time the necessary works had not been neglected. The
corral was enlarged, for the flock of musmons and goats had been increased
by a number of young ones, who had to be housed and fed. The colonists had
paid visits also to the oyster bed, the warren, the coal and iron mines,
and to the till then unexplored districts of the Far West forest, which
abounded in game. Certain indigenous plants were discovered, and those fit
for immediate use contributed to vary the vegetable stores of Granite
House.

They were a species of ficoide, some similar to those of the Cape, with
eatable fleshy leaves, others bearing seeds containing a sort of flour.

On the 10th of October the vessel was launched. Pencroft was radiant with
joy, the operation was perfectly successful; the boat completely rigged,
having been pushed on rollers to the water's edge, was floated by the
rising tide, amid the cheers of the colonists, particularly of Pencroft,
who showed no modesty on this occasion. Besides his importance was to last
beyond the finishing of the vessel, since, after having built her, he was
to command her. The grade of captain was bestowed upon him with the
approbation of all. To satisfy Captain Pencroft, it was now necessary to
give a name to the vessel, and, after many propositions had been
discussed, the votes were all in favor of the "Bonadventure." As soon as
the "Bonadventure" had been lifted by the rising tide, it was seen that
she lay evenly in the water, and would be easily navigated. However, the
trial trip was to be made that very day, by an excursion off the coast.
The weather was fine, the breeze fresh, and the sea smooth, especially
towards the south coast, for the wind was blowing from the northwest.

"All hands on board," shouted Pencroft; but breakfast was first necessary,
and it was thought best to take provisions on board, in the event of their
excursion being prolonged until the evening.

Cyrus Harding was equally anxious to try the vessel, the model of which
had originated with him, although on the sailor's advice he had altered
some parts of it, but he did not share Pencroft's confidence in her, and
as the latter had not again spoken of the voyage to Tabor Island, Harding
hoped he had given it up. He would have indeed great reluctance in letting
two or three of his companions venture so far in so small a boat, which
was not of more than fifteen tons' burden.

At half-past ten everybody was on board, even Top and Jup, and Herbert
weighed the anchor, which was fast in the sand near the mouth of the
Mercy. The sail was hoisted, the Lincolnian flag floated from the
masthead, and the "Bonadventure," steered by Pencroft, stood out to sea.

The wind blowing out of Union Bay she ran before it, and thus showed her
owners, much to their satisfaction, that she possessed a remarkably fast
pair of heels, according to Pencroft's mode of speaking. After having
doubled Flotsam Point and Claw Cape, the captain kept her close hauled, so
as to sail along the southern coast of the island, when it was found she
sailed admirably within five points of the wind. All hands were enchanted,
they had a good vessel, which, in case of need, would be of great service
to them, and with fine weather and a fresh breeze the voyage promised to
be charming.

Pencroft now stood off the shore, three or four miles across from Port
Balloon. The island then appeared in all its extent and under a new
aspect, with the varied panorama of its shore from Claw Cape to Reptile
End, the forests in which dark firs contrasted with the young foliage of
other trees and overlooked the whole, and Mount Franklin whose lofty head
was still whitened with snow.

"How beautiful it is!" cried Herbert.

"Yes, our island is beautiful and good," replied Pencroft. "I love it as I
loved my poor mother. It received us poor and destitute, and now what is
wanting to us five fellows who fell on it from the sky?"

"Nothing," replied Neb; "nothing, captain."

And the two brave men gave three tremendous cheers in honor of their
island!

During all this time Gideon Spilett, leaning against the mast, sketched
the panorama which was developed before his eyes.

"Good! And do you think now that she could undertake a voyage of some
extent?"

"What voyage, Pencroft?"

"One to Tabor Island, for instance."

"My friend," replied Harding, "I think that in any pressing emergency we
need not hesitate to trust ourselves to the 'Bonadventure' even for a
longer voyage; but you know I should see you set off to Tabor Island with
great uneasiness, since nothing obliges you to go there."

"One likes to know one's neighbors," returned the sailor, who was
obstinate in his idea. "Tabor Island is our neighbor, and the only one!
Politeness requires us to go at least to pay a visit."

"By Jove," said Spilett, "our friend Pencroft has become very particular
about the proprieties all at once!"

"I am not particular about anything at all," retorted the sailor, who was
rather vexed by the engineer's opposition, but who did not wish to cause
him anxiety.

"Even so," replied the engineer, "you will risk depriving the colony of
Lincoln Island of two settlers out of five."

"Out of six," answered Pencroft; "you forget Jup."

"Out of seven," added Neb; "Top is quite worth another."

"There is no risk at all in it, captain," replied Pencroft.

"That is possible, Pencroft; but I repeat it is to expose ourselves
uselessly."

The obstinate sailor did not reply, and let the conversation drop, quite
determined to resume it again. But he did not suspect that an incident
would come to his aid and change into an act of humanity that which was at
first only a doubtful whim.

After standing off the shore the "Bonadventure" again approached it in the
direction of Port Balloon. It was important to ascertain the channels
between the sandbanks and reefs, that buoys might be laid down since this
little creek was to be the harbor.

They were not more than half a mile from the coast, and it was necessary
to tack to beat against the wind. The "Bonadventure" was then going at a
very moderate rate, as the breeze, partly intercepted by the high land,
scarcely swelled her sails, and the sea, smooth as glass, was only rippled
now and then by passing gusts.

Herbert had stationed himself in the bows that he might indicate the
course to be followed among the channels, when all at once he shouted,—

"Luff, Pencroft, luff!"

"What's the matter," replied the sailor; "a rock?"

"No—wait," said Herbert; "I don't quite see. Luff again—right—now."

So saying, Herbert, leaning over the side, plunged his arm into the water,
and pulled it out, exclaiming,—

"A bottle!"

He held in his hand a corked bottle which he had just seized a few cables'
length from the shore.

Cyrus Harding took the bottle. Without uttering a single word he drew the
cork, and took from it a damp paper, on which were written these words:—

"Castaway.... Tabor island: 153deg W. long., 37deg 11' S. lat."

Chapter 13

"A castaway!" exclaimed Pencroft; "left on this Tabor Island not two
hundred miles from us! Ah, Captain Harding, you won't now oppose my
going."

"No, Pencroft," replied Cyrus Harding; "and you shall set out as soon as
possible."

"To-morrow?"

"To-morrow!"

The engineer still held in his hand the paper which he had taken from the
bottle. He contemplated it for some instants, then resumed,

"From this document, my friends, from the way in which it is worded, we
may conclude this: first, that the castaway on Tabor Island is a man
possessing a considerable knowledge of navigation, since he gives the
latitude and longitude of the island exactly as we ourselves found it, and
to a second of approximation; secondly, that he is either English or
American, as the document is written in the English language."

"That is perfectly logical," answered Spilett; "and the presence of this
castaway explains the arrival of the case on the shores of our island.
There must have been a wreck, since there is a castaway. As to the latter,
whoever he may be, it is lucky for him that Pencroft thought of building
this boat and of trying her this very day, for a day later and this bottle
might have been broken on the rocks."

"Indeed," said Herbert, "it is a fortunate chance that the 'Bonadventure'
passed exactly where the bottle was still floating!"

"Does not this appear strange to you?" asked Harding of Pencroft.

"It appears fortunate, that's all," answered the sailor. "Do you see
anything extraordinary in it, captain? The bottle must go somewhere, and
why not here as well as anywhere else?"

"Perhaps you are right, Pencroft," replied the engineer; "and yet—"

"But," observed Herbert, "there's nothing to prove that this bottle has
been floating long in the sea."

"Nothing," replied Gideon Spilett, "and the document appears even to have
been recently written. What do you think about it, Cyrus?"

During this conversation Pencroft had not remained inactive. He had put
the vessel about, and the "Bonadventure," all sails set, was running
rapidly towards Claw Cape.

Every one was thinking of the castaway on Tabor Island. Should they be in
time to save him? This was a great event in the life of the colonists!
They themselves were but castaways, but it was to be feared that another
might not have been so fortunate, and their duty was to go to his succor.

Claw Cape was doubled, and about four o'clock the "Bonadventure" dropped
her anchor at the mouth of the Mercy.

That same evening the arrangements for the new expedition were made. It
appeared best that Pencroft and Herbert, who knew how to work the vessel,
should undertake the voyage alone. By setting out the next day, the 10th
of October, they would arrive on the 13th, for with the present wind it
would not take more than forty-eight hours to make this passage of a
hundred and fifty miles. One day in the island, three or four to return,
they might hope therefore that on the 17th they would again reach Lincoln
Island. The weather was fine, the barometer was rising, the wind appeared
settled, everything then was in favor of these brave men whom an act of
humanity was taking far from their island.

Thus it had been agreed that Cyrus Harding, Neb, and Gideon Spilett should
remain at Granite House, but an objection was raised, and Spilett, who had
not forgotten his business as reporter to the New York Herald, having
declared that he would go by swimming rather than lose such an
opportunity, he was admitted to take a part in the voyage.

The evening was occupied in transporting on board the "Bonadventure,"
articles of bedding, utensils, arms, ammunition, a compass, provisions for
a week; this being rapidly done, the colonists ascended to Granite House.

The next day, at five o'clock in the morning, the farewells were said, not
without some emotion on both sides, and Pencroft setting sail made towards
Claw Cape, which had to be doubled in order to proceed to the southwest.

The "Bonadventure" was already a quarter of a mile from the coast when the
passengers perceived on the heights of Granite House two men waving their
farewells; they were Cyrus Harding and Neb.

Pencroft, the reporter and Herbert waved in return, and Granite House soon
disappeared behind the high rocks of the Cape.

During the first part of the day the "Bonadventure" was still in sight of
the southern coast of Lincoln Island, which soon appeared just like a
green basket, with Mount Franklin rising from the center. The heights,
diminished by distance, did not present an appearance likely to tempt
vessels to touch there. Reptile End was passed in about an hour, though at
a distance of about ten miles.

At this distance it was no longer possible to distinguish anything of the
Western Coast, which stretched away to the ridges of Mount Franklin, and
three hours after the last of Lincoln Island sank below the horizon.

The "Bonadventure" behaved capitally. Bounding over the waves she
proceeded rapidly on her course. Pencroft had hoisted the foresail, and
steering by the compass followed a rectilinear direction. From time to
time Herbert relieved him at the helm, and the lad's hand was so firm that
the sailor had not a point to find fault with.

Gideon Spilett chatted sometimes with one, sometimes with the other, if
wanted he lent a hand with the ropes, and Captain Pencroft was perfectly
satisfied with his crew.

In the evening the crescent moon, which would not be in its first quarter
until the 16th, appeared in the twilight and soon set again. The night was
dark but starry, and the next day again promised to be fine.

Pencroft prudently lowered the foresail, not wishing to be caught by a
sudden gust while carrying too much canvas; it was perhaps an unnecessary
precaution on such a calm night, but Pencroft was a prudent sailor and
cannot be blamed for it.

The reporter slept part of the night. Pencroft and Herbert took turns for
a spell of two hours each at the helm. The sailor trusted Herbert as he
would himself, and his confidence was justified by the coolness and
judgment of the lad. Pencroft gave him his directions as a commander to
his steersman, and Herbert never allowed the "Bonadventure" to swerve even
a point. The night passed quickly, as did the day of the 12th of October.
A south-easterly direction was strictly maintained. Unless the
"Bonadventure" fell in with some unknown current she would come exactly
within sight of Tabor Island.

As to the sea over which the vessel was then sailing, it was absolutely
deserted. Now and then a great albatross or frigate bird passed within
gunshot, and Gideon Spilett wondered if it was to one of them that he had
confided his last letter addressed to the New York Herald. These birds
were the only beings that appeared to frequent this part of the ocean
between Tabor and Lincoln Islands.

"And yet," observed Herbert, "this is the time that whalers usually
proceed towards the southern part of the Pacific. Indeed I do not think
there could be a more deserted sea than this."

"It is not quite so deserted as all that," replied Pencroft.

"What do you mean?" asked the reporter.

"We are on it. Do you take our vessel for a wreck and us for porpoises?"

And Pencroft laughed at his joke.

By the evening, according to calculation, it was thought that the
"Bonadventure" had accomplished a distance of a hundred and twenty miles
since her departure from Lincoln Island, that is to say in thirty-six
hours, which would give her a speed of between three and four knots.
The breeze was very slight and might soon drop altogether. However,
it was hoped that the next morning by break of day, if the calculation had
been correct and the course true, they would sight Tabor Island.

Neither Gideon Spilett, Herbert, nor Pencroft slept that night. In the
expectation of the next day they could not but feel some emotion. There
was so much uncertainty in their enterprise! Were they near Tabor Island?
Was the island still inhabited by the castaway to whose succor they had
come? Who was this man? Would not his presence disturb the little colony
till then so united? Besides, would he be content to exchange his prison
for another? All these questions, which would no doubt be answered the
next day, kept them in suspense, and at the dawn of day they all fixed
their gaze on the western horizon.

"Land!" shouted Pencroft at about six o'clock in the morning.

And it was impossible that Pencroft should be mistaken, it was evident
that land was there. Imagine the joy of the little crew of the
"Bonadventure." In a few hours they would land on the beach of the island!

The low coast of Tabor Island, scarcely emerging from the sea, was not
more than fifteen miles distant.

The head of the "Bonadventure," which was a little to the south of the
island, was set directly towards it, and as the sun mounted in the east,
its rays fell upon one or two headlands.

"This is a much less important isle than Lincoln Island," observed
Herbert, "and is probably due like ours to some submarine convulsion."

At eleven o'clock the "Bonadventure" was not more than two miles off, and
Pencroft, while looking for a suitable place at which to land, proceeded
very cautiously through the unknown waters. The whole of the island could
now be surveyed, and on it could be seen groups of gum and other large
trees, of the same species as those growing on Lincoln Island. But the
astonishing thing was that no smoke arose to show that the island was
inhabited, no signal whatever appeared on the shore!

And yet the document was clear enough; there was a castaway, and this
castaway should have been on the watch.

In the meanwhile the "Bonadventure" entered the winding channels among the
reefs, and Pencroft observed every turn with extreme care. He had put
Herbert at the helm, posting himself in the bows, inspecting the water,
while he held the halliard in his hand, ready to lower the sail at a
moment's notice. Gideon Spilett with his glass eagerly scanned the shore,
though without perceiving anything.

However, at about twelve o'clock the keel of the "Bonadventure" grated on
the bottom. The anchor was let go, the sails furled, and the crew of the
little vessel landed.

And there was no reason to doubt that this was Tabor Island, since
according to the most recent charts there was no island in this part of
the Pacific between New Zealand and the American Coast.

The vessel was securely moored, so that there should be no danger of her
being carried away by the receding tide; then Pencroft and his companions,
well armed, ascended the shore, so as to gain an elevation of about two
hundred and fifty or three hundred feet which rose at a distance of half a
mile.

"From the summit of that hill," said Spilett, "we can no doubt obtain a
complete view of the island, which will greatly facilitate our search."

"So as to do here," replied Herbert, "that which Captain Harding did the
very first thing on Lincoln Island, by climbing Mount Franklin."

"Exactly so," answered the reporter, "and it is the best plan."

While thus talking the explorers had advanced along a clearing which
terminated at the foot of the hill. Flocks of rock-pigeons and
sea-swallows, similar to those of Lincoln Island, fluttered around them.
Under the woods which skirted the glade on the left they could hear the
bushes rustling and see the grass waving, which indicated the presence of
timid animals, but still nothing to show that the island was inhabited.

Arrived at the foot of the hill, Pencroft, Spilett, and Herbert climbed it
in a few minutes, and gazed anxiously round the horizon.

They were on an islet, which did not measure more than six miles in
circumference, its shape not much bordered by capes or promontories, bays
or creeks, being a lengthened oval. All around, the lonely sea extended to
the limits of the horizon. No land nor even a sail was in sight.

This woody islet did not offer the varied aspects of Lincoln Island, arid
and wild in one part, but fertile and rich in the other. On the contrary
this was a uniform mass of verdure, out of which rose two or three hills
of no great height. Obliquely to the oval of the island ran a stream
through a wide meadow falling into the sea on the west by a narrow mouth.

The sailor and his two companions returned to the shore, to the place
where they had left the "Bonadventure."

They had decided to make the tour of the island on foot, before exploring
the interior; so that not a spot should escape their investigations. The
beach was easy to follow, and only in some places was their way barred by
large rocks, which, however, they easily passed round. The explorers
proceeded towards the south, disturbing numerous flocks of sea-birds and
herds of seals, which threw themselves into the sea as soon as they saw
the strangers at a distance.

"Those beasts yonder," observed the reporter, "do not see men for the
first time. They fear them, therefore they must know them."

An hour after their departure they arrived on the southern point of the
islet, terminated by a sharp cape, and proceeded towards the north along
the western coast, equally formed by sand and rocks, the background
bordered with thick woods.

There was not a trace of a habitation in any part, not the print of a
human foot on the shore of the island, which after four hours' walking had
been gone completely round.

It was to say the least very extraordinary, and they were compelled to
believe that Tabor Island was not or was no longer inhabited. Perhaps,
after all the document was already several months or several years old,
and it was possible in this case, either that the castaway had been
enabled to return to his country, or that he had died of misery.

Pencroft, Spilett, and Herbert, forming more or less probable conjectures,
dined rapidly on board the "Bonadventure" so as to be able to continue
their excursion until nightfall. This was done at five o'clock in the
evening, at which hour they entered the wood.

Numerous animals fled at their approach, being principally, one might say,
only goats and pigs, which were obviously European species.

Doubtless some whaler had landed them on the island, where they had
rapidly increased. Herbert resolved to catch one or two living, and take
them back to Lincoln Island.

It was no longer doubtful that men at some period or other had visited
this islet, and this became still more evident when paths appeared trodden
through the forest, felled trees, and everywhere traces of the hand of
man; but the trees were becoming rotten, and had been felled many years
ago; the marks of the axe were velveted with moss, and the grass grew long
and thick on the paths, so that it was difficult to find them.

"But," observed Gideon Spilett, "this not only proves that men have landed
on the island, but also that they lived on it for some time. Now, who were
these men? How many of them remain?"

"The document," said Herbert, "only spoke of one castaway."

"Well, if he is still on the island," replied Pencroft, "it is impossible
but that we shall find him."

The exploration was continued. The sailor and his companions naturally
followed the route which cut diagonally across the island, and they were
thus obliged to follow the stream which flowed towards the sea.

If the animals of European origin, if works due to a human hand, showed
incontestably that men had already visited the island, several specimens
of the vegetable kingdom did not prove it less. In some places, in the
midst of clearings, it was evident that the soil had been planted with
culinary plants, at probably the same distant period.

What, then, was Herbert's joy, when he recognized potatoes, chicory,
sorrel, carrots, cabbages, and turnips, of which it was sufficient to
collect the seed to enrich the soil of Lincoln Island.

"Capital, jolly!" exclaimed Pencroft. "That will suit Neb as well as us.
Even if we do not find the castaway, at least our voyage will not have
been useless, and God will have rewarded us."

"Doubtless," replied Gideon Spilett, "but to see the state in which we
find these plantations, it is to be feared that the island has not been
inhabited for some time."

"Indeed," answered Herbert, "an inhabitant, whoever he was, could not have
neglected such an important culture!"

"Yes," said Pencroft, "the castaway has gone."

"We must suppose so."

"It must then be admitted that the document has already a distant date?"

"Evidently."

"And that the bottle only arrived at Lincoln Island after having floated
in the sea a long time."

"Why not?" returned Pencroft. "But night is coming on," added he, "and I
think that it will be best to give up the search for the present."

"Let us go on board, and to-morrow we will begin again," said the
reporter.

This was the wisest course, and it was about to be followed when Herbert,
pointing to a confused mass among the trees, exclaimed,—

"A hut!"

All three immediately ran towards the dwelling. In the twilight it was
just possible to see that it was built of planks and covered with a thick
tarpaulin.

The half-closed door was pushed open by Pencroft, who entered with a rapid
step.

The hut was empty!

Chapter 14

Pencroft, Herbert, and Gideon Spilett remained silent in the midst of the
darkness.

Pencroft shouted loudly.

No reply was made.

The sailor then struck a light and set fire to a twig. This lighted for a
minute a small room, which appeared perfectly empty. At the back was a
rude fireplace, with a few cold cinders, supporting an armful of dry wood.
Pencroft threw the blazing twig on it, the wood crackled and gave forth a
bright light.

The sailor and his two companions then perceived a disordered bed, of
which the damp and yellow coverlets proved that it had not been used for a
long time. In the corner of the fireplace were two kettles, covered with
rust, and an overthrown pot. A cupboard, with a few moldy sailor's
clothes; on the table a tin plate and a Bible, eaten away by damp; in a
corner a few tools, a spade, pickaxe, two fowling-pieces, one of which was
broken; on a plank, forming a shelf, stood a barrel of powder, still
untouched, a barrel of shot, and several boxes of caps, all thickly
covered with dust, accumulated, perhaps, by many long years.

"There is no one here," said the reporter.

"No one," replied Pencroft.

"It is a long time since this room has been inhabited," observed Herbert.

"Yes, a very long time!" answered the reporter.

"Mr. Spilett," then said Pencroft, "instead of returning on board, I think
that it would be well to pass the night in this hut."

"You are right, Pencroft," answered Gideon Spilett, "and if its owner
returns, well! perhaps he will not be sorry to find the place taken
possession of."

"He will not return," said the sailor, shaking his head.

"You think that he has quitted the island?" asked the reporter.

"If he had quitted the island he would have taken away his weapons and his
tools," replied Pencroft. "You know the value which castaways set on such
articles as these the last remains of a wreck. No! no!" repeated the
sailor, in a tone of conviction; "no, he has not left the island! If he
had escaped in a boat made by himself, he would still less have left these
indispensable and necessary articles. No! he is on the island!"

"Living?" asked Herbert.

"Living or dead. But if he is dead, I suppose he has not buried himself,
and so we shall at least find his remains!"

It was then agreed that the night should be passed in the deserted
dwelling, and a store of wood found in a corner was sufficient to warm it.
The door closed, Pencroft, Herbert and Spilett remained there, seated on a
bench, talking little but wondering much. They were in a frame of mind to
imagine anything or expect anything. They listened eagerly for sounds
outside. The door might have opened suddenly, and a man presented himself
to them without their being in the least surprised, notwithstanding all
that the hut revealed of abandonment, and they had their hands ready to
press the hands of this man, this castaway, this unknown friend, for whom
friends were waiting.

But no voice was heard, the door did not open. The hours thus passed away.

How long the night appeared to the sailor and his companions! Herbert
alone slept for two hours, for at his age sleep is a necessity. They were
all three anxious to continue their exploration of the day before, and to
search the most secret recesses of the islet! The inferences deduced by
Pencroft were perfectly reasonable, and it was nearly certain that, as the
hut was deserted, and the tools, utensils, and weapons were still there,
the owner had succumbed. It was agreed, therefore, that they should search
for his remains, and give them at least Christian burial.

Day dawned; Pencroft and his companions immediately proceeded to survey
the dwelling. It had certainly been built in a favorable situation, at the
back of a little hill, sheltered by five or six magnificent gum-trees.
Before its front and through the trees the axe had prepared a wide
clearing, which allowed the view to extend to the sea. Beyond a lawn,
surrounded by a wooden fence falling to pieces, was the shore, on the left
of which was the mouth of the stream.

The hut had been built of planks, and it was easy to see that these planks
had been obtained from the hull or deck of a ship. It was probable that a
disabled vessel had been cast on the coast of the island, that one at
least of the crew had been saved, and that by means of the wreck this man,
having tools at his disposal, had built the dwelling.

And this became still more evident when Gideon Spilett, after having
walked around the hut, saw on a plank, probably one of those which had
formed the armor of the wrecked vessel, these letters already half
effaced:

BR—TAN—A

"Britannia," exclaimed Pencroft, whom the reporter had called; "it is a
common name for ships, and I could not say if she was English or
American!"

"It matters very little, Pencroft!"

"Very little indeed," answered the sailor, "and we will save the survivor
of her crew if he is still living, to whatever country he may belong. But
before beginning our search again let us go on board the 'Bonadventure'."

A sort of uneasiness had seized Pencroft upon the subject of his vessel.
Should the island be inhabited after all, and should some one have taken
possession of her? But he shrugged his shoulders at such an unreasonable
supposition. At any rate the sailor was not sorry to go to breakfast on
board. The road already trodden was not long, scarcely a mile. They set
out on their walk, gazing into the wood and thickets through which goats
and pigs fled in hundreds.

Twenty minutes after leaving the hut Pencroft and his companions reached
the western coast of the island, and saw the "Bonadventure" held fast by
her anchor, which was buried deep in the sand.

Pencroft could not restrain a sigh of satisfaction. After all this vessel
was his child, and it is the right of fathers to be often uneasy when
there is no occasion for it.

They returned on board, breakfasted, so that it should not be necessary to
dine until very late; then the repast being ended, the exploration was
continued and conducted with the most minute care. Indeed, it was very
probable that the only inhabitant of the island had perished. It was
therefore more for the traces of a dead than of a living man that Pencroft
and his companions searched. But their searches were vain, and during the
half of that day they sought to no purpose among the thickets of trees
which covered the islet. There was then scarcely any doubt that, if the
castaway was dead, no trace of his body now remained, but that some wild
beast had probably devoured it to the last bone.

"We will set off to-morrow at daybreak," said Pencroft to his two
companions, as about two o'clock they were resting for a few minutes under
the shade of a clump of firs.

"I should think that we might without scruple take the utensils which
belonged to the castaway," added Herbert.

"I think so, too," returned Gideon Spilett, "and these arms and tools will
make up the stores of Granite House. The supply of powder and shot is also
most important."

"Yes," replied Pencroft, "but we must not forget to capture a couple or
two of those pigs, of which Lincoln Island is destitute."

"Nor to gather those seeds," added Herbert, "which will give us all the
vegetables of the Old and the New Worlds."

"Then perhaps it would be best," said the reporter, "to remain a day
longer on Tabor Island, so as to collect all that may be useful to us."

"No, Mr. Spilett," answered Pencroft, "I will ask you to set off to-morrow
at daybreak. The wind seems to me to be likely to shift to the west, and
after having had a fair wind for coming we shall have a fair wind for
going back."

"Then do not let us lose time," said Herbert, rising.

"We won't waste time," returned Pencroft. "You, Herbert, go and gather the
seeds, which you know better than we do. While you do that, Mr. Spilett
and I will go and have a pig hunt, and even without Top I hope we shall
manage to catch a few!"

Herbert accordingly took the path which led towards the cultivated part of
the islet, while the sailor and the reporter entered the forest.

Many specimens of the porcine race fled before them, and these animals,
which were singularly active, did not appear to be in a humor to allow
themselves to be approached.

However, after an hour's chase, the hunters had just managed to get hold
of a couple lying in a thicket, when cries were heard resounding from the
north part of the island, With the cries were mingled terrible yells, in
which there was nothing human.

Pencroft and Gideon Spilett were at once on their feet, and the pigs by
this movement began to run away, at the moment when the sailor was getting
ready the rope to bind them.

"That's Herbert's voice," said the reporter.

"Run!" exclaimed Pencroft.

And the sailor and Spilett immediately ran at full speed towards the spot
from whence the cries proceeded.

They did well to hasten, for at a turn of the path near a clearing they
saw the lad thrown on the ground and in the grasp of a savage being,
apparently a gigantic ape, who was about to do him some great harm.

To rush on this monster, throw him on the ground in his turn, snatch
Herbert from him, then bind him securely, was the work of a minute for
Pencroft and Gideon Spilett. The sailor was of Herculean strength, the
reporter also very powerful, and in spite of the monster's resistance he
was firmly tied so that he could not even move.

"You are not hurt, Herbert?" asked Spilett.

"No, no!"

"Oh, if this ape had wounded him!" exclaimed Pencroft.

"But he is not an ape," answered Herbert.

At these words Pencroft and Gideon Spilett looked at the singular being
who lay on the ground. Indeed it was not an ape; it was a human being, a
man. But what a man! A savage in all the horrible acceptation of the word,
and so much the more frightful that he seemed fallen to the lowest degree
of brutishness!

Shaggy hair, untrimmed beard descending to the chest, the body almost
naked except a rag round the waist, wild eyes, enormous hands with
immensely long nails, skin the color of mahogany, feet as hard as if made
of horn, such was the miserable creature who yet had a claim to be called
a man. But it might justly be asked if there were yet a soul in this body,
or if the brute instinct alone survived in it!

"Are you quite sure that this is a man, or that he has ever been one?"
said Pencroft to the reporter.

The reporter spoke the truth. It was evident that if the castaway had ever
been a civilized being, solitude had made him a savage, or worse, perhaps
a regular man of the woods. Hoarse sounds issued from his throat between
his teeth, which were sharp as the teeth of a wild beast made to tear raw
flesh.

Memory must have deserted him long before, and for a long time also he had
forgotten how to use his gun and tools, and he no longer knew how to make
a fire! It could be seen that he was active and powerful, but the physical
qualities had been developed in him to the injury of the moral qualities.
Gideon Spilett spoke to him. He did not appear to understand or even to
hear. And yet on looking into his eyes, the reporter thought he could see
that all reason was not extinguished in him. However, the prisoner did not
struggle, nor even attempt to break his bonds. Was he overwhelmed by the
presence of men whose fellow he had once been? Had he found in some corner
of his brain a fleeting remembrance which recalled him to humanity? If
free, would he attempt to fly, or would he remain? They could not tell,
but they did not make the experiment; and after gazing attentively at the
miserable creature,—

"Whoever he may be," remarked Gideon Spilett, "whoever he may have been,
and whatever he may become, it is our duty to take him with us to Lincoln
Island."

"Yes, yes!" replied Herbert, "and perhaps with care we may arouse in him
some gleam of intelligence."

"The soul does not die," said the reporter, "and it would be a great
satisfaction to rescue one of God's creatures from brutishness."

Pencroft shook his head doubtfully.

"We must try at any rate," returned the reporter; "humanity commands us."

It was indeed their duty as Christians and civilized beings. All three
felt this, and they well knew that Cyrus Harding would approve of their
acting thus.

"Shall we leave him bound?" asked the sailor.

"Perhaps he would walk if his feet were unfastened," said Herbert.

"Let us try," replied Pencroft.

The cords which shackled the prisoner's feet were cut off, but his arms
remained securely fastened. He got up by himself and did not manifest any
desire to run away. His hard eyes darted a piercing glance at the three
men, who walked near him, but nothing denoted that he recollected being
their fellow, or at least having been so. A continual hissing sound issued
from his lips, his aspect was wild, but he did not attempt to resist.

By the reporter's advice the unfortunate man was taken to the hut. Perhaps
the sight of the things that belonged to him would make some impression on
him! Perhaps a spark would be sufficient to revive his obscured intellect,
to rekindle his dulled soul. The dwelling was not far off. In a few
minutes they arrived there, but the prisoner remembered nothing, and it
appeared that he had lost consciousness of everything.

What could they think of the degree of brutishness into which this
miserable being had fallen, unless that his imprisonment on the islet
dated from a very distant period and after having arrived there a rational
being solitude had reduced him to this condition.

The reporter then thought that perhaps the sight of fire would have some
effect on him, and in a moment one of those beautiful flames, that attract
even animals, blazed up on the hearth. The sight of the flame seemed at
first to fix the attention of the unhappy object, but soon he turned away
and the look of intelligence faded. Evidently there was nothing to be
done, for the time at least, but to take him on board the "Bonadventure."
This was done, and he remained there in Pencroft's charge.

Herbert and Spilett returned to finish their work; and some hours after
they came back to the shore, carrying the utensils and guns, a store of
vegetables, of seeds, some game, and two couple of pigs.

All was embarked, and the "Bonadventure" was ready to weigh anchor and
sail with the morning tide.

The prisoner had been placed in the fore-cabin, where he remained quiet,
silent, apparently deaf and dumb.

Pencroft offered him something to eat, but he pushed away the cooked meat
that was presented to him and which doubtless did not suit him. But on the
sailor showing him one of the ducks which Herbert had killed, he pounced
on it like a wild beast, and devoured it greedily.

"You think that he will recover his senses?" asked Pencroft. "It is not
impossible that our care will have an effect upon him, for it is solitude
that has made him what he is, and from this time forward he will be no
longer alone."

"The poor man must no doubt have been in this state for a long time," said
Herbert.

"Perhaps," answered Gideon Spilett.

"About what age is he?" asked the lad.

"It is difficult to say," replied the reporter, "for it is impossible to
see his features under the thick beard which covers his face, but he is no
longer young, and I suppose he might be about fifty."

"Yes, Herbert, but I must add that they are more human than one could
expect from his appearance."

"However, we shall see," replied Pencroft, "and I am anxious to know what
opinion Captain Harding will have of our savage. We went to look for a
human creature, and we are bringing back a monster! After all, we did what
we could."

The night passed, and whether the prisoner slept or not could not be
known, but at any rate, although he had been unbound, he did not move. He
was like a wild animal, which appears stunned at first by its capture, and
becomes wild again afterwards.

At daybreak the next morning, the 15th of October, the change of weather
predicted by Pencroft occurred. The wind having shifted to the northwest
favored the return of the "Bonadventure," but at the same time it
freshened, which might render navigation more difficult.

At five o'clock in the morning the anchor was weighed. Pencroft took a
reef in the mainsail, and steered towards the north-east, so as to sail
straight for Lincoln Island.

The first day of the voyage was not marked by any incident. The prisoner
remained quiet in the fore-cabin, and as he had been a sailor it appeared
that the motion of the vessel might produce on him a salutary reaction.
Did some recollection of his former calling return to him? However that
might be, he remained tranquil, astonished rather than depressed.

The next day the wind increased, blowing more from the north, consequently
in a less favorable direction for the "Bonadventure." Pencroft was soon
obliged to sail close-hauled, and without saying anything about it he
began to be uneasy at the state of the sea, which frequently broke over
the bows. Certainly, if the wind did not moderate, it would take a longer
time to reach Lincoln Island than it had taken to make Tabor Island.

Indeed, on the morning of the 17th, the "Bonadventure" had been
forty-eight hours at sea, and nothing showed that she was near the island.
It was impossible, besides, to estimate the distance traversed, or to
trust to the reckoning for the direction, as the speed had been very
irregular.

Twenty-four hours after there was yet no land in sight. The wind was right
ahead and the sea very heavy. The sails were close-reefed, and they tacked
frequently. On the 18th, a wave swept completely over the "Bonadventure";
and if the crew had not taken the precaution of lashing themselves to the
deck, they would have been carried away.

On this occasion Pencroft and his companions, who were occupied with
loosing themselves, received unexpected aid from the prisoner, who emerged
from the hatchway as if his sailor's instinct had suddenly returned, broke
a piece out of the bulwarks with a spar so as to let the water which
filled the deck escape. Then the vessel being clear, he descended to his
cabin without having uttered a word. Pencroft, Gideon Spilett, and
Herbert, greatly astonished, let him proceed.

Their situation was truly serious, and the sailor had reason to fear that
he was lost on the wide sea without any possibility of recovering his
course.

The night was dark and cold. However, about eleven o'clock, the wind fell,
the sea went down, and the speed of the vessel, as she labored less,
greatly increased.

Neither Pencroft, Spilett, nor Herbert thought of taking an hour's sleep.
They kept a sharp look-out, for either Lincoln Island could not be far
distant and would be sighted at daybreak, or the "Bonadventure," carried
away by currents, had drifted so much that it would be impossible to
rectify her course. Pencroft, uneasy to the last degree, yet did not
despair, for he had a gallant heart, and grasping the tiller he anxiously
endeavored to pierce the darkness which surrounded them.

About two o'clock in the morning he started forward,—

"A light! a light!" he shouted.

Indeed, a bright light appeared twenty miles to the northeast. Lincoln
Island was there, and this fire, evidently lighted by Cyrus Harding,
showed them the course to be followed. Pencroft, who was bearing too much
to the north, altered his course and steered towards the fire, which
burned brightly above the horizon like a star of the first magnitude.

Chapter 15

The next day, the 20th of October, at seven o'clock in the morning, after
a voyage of four days, the "Bonadventure" gently glided up to the beach at
the mouth of the Mercy.

Cyrus Harding and Neb, who had become very uneasy at the bad weather and
the prolonged absence of their companions, had climbed at daybreak to the
plateau of Prospect Heights, and they had at last caught sight of the
vessel which had been so long in returning.

"God be praised! there they are!" exclaimed Cyrus Harding.

As to Neb in his joy, he began to dance, to twirl round, clapping his
hands and shouting, "Oh! my master!" A more touching pantomime than the
finest discourse.

The engineer's first idea, on counting the people on the deck of the
"Bonadventure," was that Pencroft had not found the castaway of Tabor
Island, or at any rate that the unfortunate man had refused to leave his
island and change one prison for another.

Indeed Pencroft, Gideon Spilett, and Herbert were alone on the deck of the
"Bonadventure."

The moment the vessel touched, the engineer and Neb were waiting on the
beach, and before the passengers had time to leap on to the sand, Harding
said: "We have been very uneasy at your delay, my friends! Did you meet
with any accident?"

"No," replied Gideon Spilett; "on the contrary, everything went
wonderfully well. We will tell you all about it."

"However," returned the engineer, "your search has been unsuccessful,
since you are only three, just as you went!"

"Excuse me, captain," replied the sailor, "we are four."

"You have found the castaway?"

"Yes."

"And you have brought him?"

"Yes."

"Living?"

"Yes."

"Where is he? Who is he?"

"He is," replied the reporter, "or rather he was a man! There, Cyrus, that
is all we can tell you!"

The engineer was then informed of all that had passed during the voyage,
and under what conditions the search had been conducted; how the only
dwelling in the island had long been abandoned; how at last a castaway had
been captured, who appeared no longer to belong to the human species.

"And that's just the point," added Pencroft, "I don't know if we have done
right to bring him here."

"Certainly you have, Pencroft," replied the engineer quickly.

"But the wretched creature has no sense!"

"That is possible at present," replied Cyrus Harding, "but only a few
months ago the wretched creature was a man like you and me. And who knows
what will become of the survivor of us after a long solitude on this
island? It is a great misfortune to be alone, my friends; and it must be
believed that solitude can quickly destroy reason, since you have found
this poor creature in such a state!"

"But, captain," asked Herbert, "what leads you to think that the
brutishness of the unfortunate man began only a few months back?"

"Because the document we found had been recently written," answered the
engineer, "and the castaway alone can have written it."

"Always supposing," observed Gideon Spilett, "that it had not been written
by a companion of this man, since dead."

"That is impossible, my dear Spilett."

"Why so?" asked the reporter.

"Because the document would then have spoken of two castaways," replied
Harding, "and it mentioned only one."

Herbert then in a few words related the incidents of the voyage, and dwelt
on the curious fact of the sort of passing gleam in the prisoner's mind,
when for an instant in the height of the storm he had become a sailor.

"Well, Herbert," replied the engineer, "you are right to attach great
importance to this fact. The unfortunate man cannot be incurable, and
despair has made him what he is; but here he will find his fellow-men, and
since there is still a soul in him, this soul we shall save!"

The castaway of Tabor Island, to the great pity of the engineer and the
great astonishment of Neb, was then brought from the cabin which he
occupied in the fore part of the "Bonadventure"; when once on land he
manifested a wish to run away.

But Cyrus Harding approaching, placed his hand on his shoulder with a
gesture full of authority, and looked at him with infinite tenderness.
Immediately the unhappy man, submitting to a superior will, gradually
became calm, his eyes fell, his head bent, and he made no more resistance.

"Poor fellow!" murmured the engineer.

Cyrus Harding had attentively observed him. To judge by his appearance
this miserable being had no longer anything human about him, and yet
Harding, as had the reporter already, observed in his look an indefinable
trace of intelligence.

It was decided that the castaway, or rather the stranger as he was
thenceforth termed by his companions, should live in one of the rooms of
Granite House, from which, however, he could not escape. He was led there
without difficulty, and with careful attention, it might, perhaps, be
hoped that some day he would be a companion to the settlers in Lincoln
Island.

Cyrus Harding, during breakfast, which Neb had hastened to prepare, as the
reporter, Herbert, and Pencroft were dying of hunger, heard in detail all
the incidents which had marked the voyage of exploration to the islet. He
agreed with his friends on this point, that the stranger must be either
English or American, the name Britannia leading them to suppose this, and,
besides, through the bushy beard, and under the shaggy, matted hair, the
engineer thought he could recognize the characteristic features of the
Anglo-Saxon.

"But, by the bye," said Gideon Spilett, addressing Herbert, "you never
told us how you met this savage, and we know nothing, except that you
would have been strangled, if we had not happened to come up in time to
help you!"

"Upon my word," answered Herbert, "it is rather difficult to say how it
happened. I was, I think, occupied in collecting my plants, when I heard a
noise like an avalanche falling from a very tall tree. I scarcely had time
to look round. This unfortunate man, who was without doubt concealed in a
tree, rushed upon me in less time than I take to tell you about it, and
unless Mr. Spilett and Pencroft—"

"My boy!" said Cyrus Harding, "you ran a great danger, but, perhaps,
without that, the poor creature would have still hidden himself from your
search, and we should not have had a new companion."

"You hope, then, Cyrus, to succeed in reforming the man?" asked the
reporter.

"Yes," replied the engineer.

Breakfast over, Harding and his companions left Granite House and returned
to the beach. They there occupied themselves in unloading the
"Bonadventure," and the engineer, having examined the arms and tools, saw
nothing which could help them to establish the identity of the stranger.

The capture of pigs, made on the islet, was looked upon as being very
profitable to Lincoln Island, and the animals were led to the sty, where
they soon became at home.

The two barrels, containing the powder and shot, as well as the box of
caps, were very welcome. It was agreed to establish a small
powder-magazine, either outside Granite House or in the Upper Cavern,
where there would be no fear of explosion. However, the use of pyroxyle
was to be continued, for this substance giving excellent results, there
was no reason for substituting ordinary powder.

When the unloading of the vessel was finished,—

"Captain," said Pencroft, "I think it would be prudent to put our
'Bonadventure' in a safe place."

"Is she not safe at the mouth of the Mercy?" asked Cyrus Harding.

"No, captain," replied the sailor. "Half of the time she is stranded on
the sand, and that works her. She is a famous craft, you see, and she
behaved admirably during the squall which struck us on our return."

"Could she not float in the river?"

"No doubt, captain, she could; but there is no shelter there, and in the
east winds, I think that the 'Bonadventure' would suffer much from the
surf."

"Well, where would you put her, Pencroft?"

"In Port Balloon," replied the sailor. "That little creek, shut in by
rocks, seems to me to be just the harbor we want."

"Is it not rather far?"

"Pooh! it is not more than three miles from Granite House, and we have a
fine straight road to take us there!"

"Do it then, Pencroft, and take your 'Bonadventure' there," replied the
engineer, "and yet I would rather have her under our more immediate
protection. When we have time, we must make a little harbor for her."

"Yes, my brave Pencroft," answered the engineer, "but on condition,
however, that you help me, for you do as much as three men in all our
work."

Herbert and the sailor then re-embarked on board the "Bonadventure," the
anchor was weighed, the sail hoisted, and the wind drove her rapidly
towards Claw Cape. Two hours after, she was reposing on the tranquil
waters of Port Balloon.

During the first days passed by the stranger in Granite House, had he
already given them reason to think that his savage nature was becoming
tamed? Did a brighter light burn in the depths of that obscured mind? In
short, was the soul returning to the body?

Yes, to a certainty, and to such a degree, that Cyrus Harding and the
reporter wondered if the reason of the unfortunate man had ever been
totally extinguished. At first, accustomed to the open air, to the
unrestrained liberty which he had enjoyed on Tabor Island, the stranger
manifested a sullen fury, and it was feared that he might throw himself
onto the beach, out of one of the windows of Granite House. But gradually
he became calmer, and more freedom was allowed to his movements.

They had reason to hope, and to hope much. Already, forgetting his
carnivorous instincts, the stranger accepted a less bestial nourishment
than that on which he fed on the islet, and cooked meat did not produce in
him the same sentiment of repulsion which he had showed on board the
"Bonadventure." Cyrus Harding had profited by a moment when he was
sleeping, to cut his hair and matted beard, which formed a sort of mane
and gave him such a savage aspect. He had also been clothed more suitably,
after having got rid of the rag which covered him. The result was that,
thanks to these attentions, the stranger resumed a more human appearance,
and it even seemed as if his eyes had become milder. Certainly, when
formerly lighted up by intelligence, this man's face must have had a sort
of beauty.

Every day, Harding imposed on himself the task of passing some hours in
his company. He came and worked near him, and occupied himself in
different things, so as to fix his attention. A spark, indeed, would be
sufficient to reillumine that soul, a recollection crossing that brain to
recall reason. That had been seen, during the storm, on board the
"Bonadventure!" The engineer did not neglect either to speak aloud, so as
to penetrate at the same time by the organs of hearing and sight the
depths of that torpid intelligence. Sometimes one of his companions,
sometimes another, sometimes all joined him. They spoke most often of
things belonging to the navy, which must interest a sailor.

At times, the stranger gave some slight attention to what was said, and
the settlers were soon convinced that he partly understood them. Sometimes
the expression of his countenance was deeply sorrowful, a proof that he
suffered mentally, for his face could not be mistaken; but he did not
speak, although at different times, however, they almost thought that
words were about to issue from his lips. At all events, the poor creature
was quite quiet and sad!

But was not his calm only apparent? Was not his sadness only the result of
his seclusion? Nothing could yet be ascertained. Seeing only certain
objects and in a limited space, always in contact with the colonists, to
whom he would soon become accustomed, having no desires to satisfy, better
fed, better clothed, it was natural that his physical nature should
gradually improve; but was he penetrated with the sense of a new life? or
rather, to employ a word which would be exactly applicable to him, was he
not becoming tamed, like an animal in company with his master? This was an
important question, which Cyrus Harding was anxious to answer, and yet he
did not wish to treat his invalid roughly! Would he ever be a
convalescent?

How the engineer observed him every moment! How he was on the watch for
his soul, if one may use the expression! How he was ready to grasp it! The
settlers followed with real sympathy all the phases of the cure undertaken
by Harding. They aided him also in this work of humanity, and all, except
perhaps the incredulous Pencroft, soon shared both his hope and his faith.

The calm of the stranger was deep, as has been said, and he even showed a
sort of attachment for the engineer, whose influence he evidently felt.
Cyrus Harding resolved then to try him, by transporting him to another
scene, from that ocean which formerly his eyes had been accustomed to
contemplate, to the border of the forest, which might perhaps recall those
where so many years of his life had been passed!

"But," said Gideon Spilett, "can we hope that he will not escape, if once
set at liberty?"

"The experiment must be tried," replied the engineer.

"Well!" said Pencroft. "When that fellow is outside, and feels the fresh
air, he will be off as fast as his legs can carry him!"

"I do not think so," returned Harding.

"Let us try," said Spilett.

"We will try," replied the engineer.

This was on the 30th of October, and consequently the castaway of Tabor
Island had been a prisoner in Granite House for nine days. It was warm,
and a bright sun darted its rays on the island. Cyrus Harding and Pencroft
went to the room occupied by the stranger, who was found lying near the
window and gazing at the sky.

"Come, my friend," said the engineer to him.

The stranger rose immediately. His eyes were fixed on Cyrus Harding, and
he followed him, while the sailor marched behind them, little confident as
to the result of the experiment.

Arrived at the door, Harding and Pencroft made him take his place in the
lift, while Neb, Herbert, and Gideon Spilett waited for them before
Granite House. The lift descended, and in a few moments all were united on
the beach.

The settlers went a short distance from the stranger, so as to leave him
at liberty.

He then made a few steps toward the sea, and his look brightened with
extreme animation, but he did not make the slightest attempt to escape. He
was gazing at the little waves which, broken by the islet, rippled on the
sand.

"This is only the sea," observed Gideon Spilett, "and possibly it does not
inspire him with any wish to escape!"

"Yes," replied Harding, "we must take him to the plateau, on the border of
the forest. There the experiment will be more conclusive."

"Besides, he could not run away," said Neb, "since the bridge is raised."

"Oh!" said Pencroft, "that isn't a man to be troubled by a stream like
Creek Glycerine! He could cross it directly, at a single bound!"

"We shall soon see," Harding contented himself with replying, his eyes not
quitting those of his patient.

The latter was then led towards the mouth of the Mercy, and all climbing
the left bank of the river, reached Prospect Heights.

Arrived at the spot on which grew the first beautiful trees of the forest,
their foliage slightly agitated by the breeze, the stranger appeared
greedily to drink in the penetrating odor which filled the atmosphere, and
a long sigh escaped from his chest.

The settlers kept behind him, ready to seize him if he made any movement
to escape!

And, indeed, the poor creature was on the point of springing into the
creek which separated him from the forest, and his legs were bent for an
instant as if for a spring, but almost immediately he stepped back, half
sank down, and a large tear fell from his eyes.

"Ah!" exclaimed Cyrus Harding, "you have become a man again, for you can
weep!"

Chapter 16

Yes! the unfortunate man had wept! Some recollection doubtless had flashed
across his brain, and to use Cyrus Harding's expression, by those tears he
was once more a man.

The colonists left him for some time on the plateau, and withdrew
themselves to a short distance, so that he might feel himself free; but he
did not think of profiting by this liberty, and Harding soon brought him
back to Granite House. Two days after this occurrence, the stranger
appeared to wish gradually to mingle with their common life. He evidently
heard and understood, but no less evidently was he strangely determined
not to speak to the colonists; for one evening, Pencroft, listening at the
door of his room, heard these words escape from his lips:—

"No! here! I! never!"

The sailor reported these words to his companions.

"There is some painful mystery there!" said Harding.

The stranger had begun to use the laboring tools, and he worked in the
garden. When he stopped in his work, as was often the case, he remained
retired within himself, but on the engineer's recommendation, they
respected the reserve which he apparently wished to keep. If one of the
settlers approached him, he drew back, and his chest heaved with sobs, as
if overburdened!

Was it remorse that overwhelmed him thus? They were compelled to believe
so, and Gideon Spilett could not help one day making this observation,—

"If he does not speak it is because he has, I fear, things too serious to
be told!"

They must be patient and wait.

A few days later, on the 3rd of November, the stranger, working on the
plateau, had stopped, letting his spade drop to the ground, and Harding,
who was observing him from a little distance, saw that tears were again
flowing from his eyes. A sort of irresistible pity led him towards the
unfortunate man, and he touched his arm lightly.

"My friend!" said he.

The stranger tried to avoid his look, and Cyrus Harding having endeavored
to take his hand, he drew back quickly.

"My friend," said Harding in a firmer voice, "look at me, I wish it!"

The stranger looked at the engineer, and seemed to be under his power, as
a subject under the influence of a mesmerist. He wished to run away. But
then his countenance suddenly underwent a transformation. His eyes
flashed. Words struggled to escape from his lips. He could no longer
contain himself! At last he folded his arms; then, in a hollow voice,—"Who
are you?" he asked Cyrus Harding.

"Castaways, like you," replied the engineer, whose emotion was deep. "We
have brought you here, among your fellow-men."

Then he rushed to the side of the plateau which overlooked the sea, and
remained there a long time motionless.

Harding rejoined his companions and related to them what had just
happened.

"Yes! there is some mystery in that man's life," said Gideon Spilett, "and
it appears as if he had only re-entered society by the path of remorse."

"I don't know what sort of a man we have brought here," said the sailor.
"He has secrets—"

"Which we will respect," interrupted Cyrus Harding quickly. "If he has
committed any crime, he has most fearfully expiated it, and in our eyes he
is absolved."

For two hours the stranger remained alone on the shore, evidently under
the influence of recollections which recalled all his past life—a
melancholy life doubtless—and the colonists, without losing sight of
him, did not attempt to disturb his solitude. However, after two hours,
appearing to have formed a resolution, he came to find Cyrus Harding. His
eyes were red with the tears he had shed, but he wept no longer. His
countenance expressed deep humility. He appeared anxious, timorous,
ashamed, and his eyes were constantly fixed on the ground.

"Sir," said he to Harding, "your companions and you, are you English?"

"No," answered the engineer, "we are Americans."

"Ah!" said the stranger, and he murmured, "I prefer that!"

"And you, my friend?" asked the engineer.

"English," replied he hastily.

And as if these few words had been difficult to say, he retreated to the
beach, where he walked up and down between the cascade and the mouth of
the Mercy, in a state of extreme agitation.

Then, passing one moment close to Herbert, he stopped and in a stifled
voice,—

"What month?" he asked.

"December," replied Herbert.

"What year?"

"1866."

"Twelve years! twelve years!" he exclaimed.

Then he left him abruptly.

Herbert reported to the colonists the questions and answers which had been
made.

"Yes!" added Herbert, "and he had been twelve years already on the islet
when we found him there!"

"Twelve years!" rejoined Harding. "Ah! twelve years of solitude, after a
wicked life, perhaps, may well impair a man's reason!"

"I am induced to think," said Pencroft, "that this man was not wrecked on
Tabor Island, but that in consequence of some crime he was left there."

"You must be right, Pencroft," replied the reporter, "and if it is so it
is not impossible that those who left him on the island may return to
fetch him some day!"

"And they will no longer find him," said Herbert.

"But then," added Pencroft, "they must return, and—"

"My friends," said Cyrus Harding, "do not let us discuss this question
until we know more about it. I believe that the unhappy man has suffered,
that he has severely expiated his faults, whatever they may have been, and
that the wish to unburden himself stifles him. Do not let us press him to
tell us his history! He will tell it to us doubtless, and when we know it,
we shall see what course it will be best to follow. He alone besides can
tell us, if he has more than a hope, a certainty, of returning some day to
his country, but I doubt it!"

"And why?" asked the reporter.

"Because that, in the event of his being sure of being delivered at a
certain time, he would have waited the hour of his deliverance and would
not have thrown this document into the sea. No, it is more probable that
he was condemned to die on that islet, and that he never expected to see
his fellow-creatures again!"

"But," observed the sailor, "there is one thing which I cannot explain."

"What is it?"

"If this man had been left for twelve years on Tabor Island, one may well
suppose that he had been several years already in the wild state in which
we found him!"

"That is probable," replied Cyrus Harding.

"It must then be many years since he wrote that document!"

"No doubt," and yet the document appears to have been recently written!

"Besides, how do you know that the bottle which enclosed the document may
not have taken several years to come from Tabor Island to Lincoln Island?"

"That is not absolutely impossible," replied the reporter.

"Might it not have been a long time already on the coast of the island?"

"No," answered Pencroft, "for it was still floating. We could not even
suppose that after it had stayed for any length of time on the shore, it
would have been swept off by the sea, for the south coast is all rocks,
and it would certainly have been smashed to pieces there!"

"That is true," rejoined Cyrus Harding thoughtfully.

"And then," continued the sailor, "if the document was several years old,
if it had been shut up in that bottle for several years, it would have
been injured by damp. Now, there is nothing of the kind, and it was found
in a perfect state of preservation."

The sailor's reasoning was very just, and pointed out an incomprehensible
fact, for the document appeared to have been recently written, when the
colonists found it in the bottle. Moreover, it gave the latitude and
longitude of Tabor Island correctly, which implied that its author had a
more complete knowledge of hydrography than could be expected of a common
sailor.

"There is in this, again, something unaccountable," said the engineer,
"but we will not urge our companion to speak. When he likes, my friends,
then we shall be ready to hear him!"

During the following days the stranger did not speak a word, and did not
once leave the precincts of the plateau. He worked away, without losing a
moment, without taking a minute's rest, but always in a retired place. At
meal times he never came to Granite House, although invited several times
to do so, but contented himself with eating a few raw vegetables. At
nightfall he did not return to the room assigned to him, but remained
under some clump of trees, or when the weather was bad crouched in some
cleft of the rocks. Thus he lived in the same manner as when he had no
other shelter than the forests of Tabor Island, and as all persuasion to
induce him to improve his life was in vain, the colonists waited
patiently. And the time was near, when, as it seemed, almost involuntarily
urged by his conscience, a terrible confession escaped him.

On the 10th of November, about eight o'clock in the evening, as night was
coming on, the stranger appeared unexpectedly before the settlers, who
were assembled under the veranda. His eyes burned strangely, and he had
quite resumed the wild aspect of his worst days.

Cyrus Harding and his companions were astounded on seeing that, overcome
by some terrible emotion, his teeth chattered like those of a person in a
fever. What was the matter with him? Was the sight of his fellow-creatures
insupportable to him? Was he weary of this return to a civilized mode of
existence? Was he pining for his former savage life? It appeared so, as
soon he was heard to express himself in these incoherent sentences:—

"Why am I here?.... By what right have you dragged me from my islet?....
Do you think there could be any tie between you and me?.... Do you know
who I am—what I have done—why I was there—alone? And who
told you that I was not abandoned there—that I was not condemned to
die there?.... Do you know my past?.... How do you know that I have not
stolen, murdered—that I am not a wretch—an accursed being—only
fit to live like a wild beast, far from all—speak—do you know
it?"

The colonists listened without interrupting the miserable creature, from
whom these broken confessions escaped, as it were, in spite of himself.
Harding wishing to calm him, approached him, but he hastily drew back.

"No! no!" he exclaimed; "one word only—am I free?"

"You are free," answered the engineer.

"Farewell, then!" he cried, and fled like a madman.

Neb, Pencroft, and Herbert ran also towards the edge of the wood—but
they returned alone.

"We must let him alone!" said Cyrus Harding.

"He will never come back!" exclaimed Pencroft.

"He will come back," replied the engineer.

Many days passed; but Harding—was it a sort of presentiment?—persisted
in the fixed idea that sooner or later the unhappy man would return.

"It is the last revolt of his wild nature," said he, "which remorse has
touched, and which renewed solitude will terrify."

In the meanwhile, works of all sorts were continued, as well on Prospect
Heights as at the corral, where Harding intended to build a farm. It is
unnecessary to say that the seeds collected by Herbert on Tabor Island had
been carefully sown. The plateau thus formed one immense kitchen-garden,
well laid out and carefully tended, so that the arms of the settlers were
never in want of work. There was always something to be done. As the
esculents increased in number, it became necessary to enlarge the simple
beds, which threatened to grow into regular fields and replace the
meadows. But grass abounded in other parts of the island, and there was no
fear of the onagers being obliged to go on short allowance. It was well
worth while, besides, to turn Prospect Heights into a kitchen-garden,
defended by its deep belt of creeks, and to remove them to the meadows,
which had no need of protection against the depredations of quadrumana and
quadrapeds.

On the 15th of November, the third harvest was gathered in. How
wonderfully had the field increased in extent, since eighteen months ago,
when the first grain of wheat was sown! The second crop of six hundred
thousand grains produced this time four thousand bushels, or five hundred
millions of grains!

The colony was rich in corn, for ten bushels alone were sufficient for
sowing every year to produce an ample crop for the food both of men and
beasts. The harvest was completed, and the last fortnight of the month of
November was devoted to the work of converting it into food for man. In
fact, they had corn, but not flour, and the establishment of a mill was
necessary. Cyrus Harding could have utilized the second fall which flowed
into the Mercy to establish his motive power, the first being already
occupied with moving the felting mill, but, after some consultation, it
was decided that a simple windmill should be built on Prospect Heights.
The building of this presented no more difficulty than the building of the
former, and it was moreover certain that there would be no want of wind on
the plateau, exposed as it was to the sea breezes.

"Not to mention," said Pencroft, "that the windmill will be more lively
and will have a good effect in the landscape!"

They set to work by choosing timber for the frame and machinery of the
mill. Some large stones, found at the north of the lake, could be easily
transformed into millstones, and as to the sails, the inexhaustible case
of the balloon furnished the necessary material.

Cyrus Harding made his model, and the site of the mill was chosen a little
to the right of the poultry-yard, near the shore of the lake. The frame
was to rest on a pivot supported with strong timbers, so that it could
turn with all the machinery it contained according as the wind required
it. The work advanced rapidly. Neb and Pencroft had become very skilful
carpenters, and had nothing to do but to copy the models provided by the
engineer.

Soon a sort of cylindrical box, in shape like a pepper-pot, with a pointed
roof, rose on the spot chosen. The four frames which formed the sails had
been firmly fixed in the center beam, so as to form a certain angle with
it, and secured with iron clamps. As to the different parts of the
internal mechanism, the box destined to contain the two millstones, the
fixed stone and the moving stone, the hopper, a sort of large square
trough, wide at the top, narrow at the bottom, which would allow the grain
to fall on the stones, the oscillating spout intended to regulate the
passing of the grain, and lastly the bolting machine, which by the
operation of sifting, separates the bran from the flour, were made without
difficulty. The tools were good, and the work not difficult, for in
reality, the machinery of a mill is very simple. This was only a question
of time.

Every one had worked at the construction of the mill, and on the 1st of
December it was finished. As usual, Pencroft was delighted with his work,
and had no doubt that the apparatus was perfect.

"Now for a good wind," said he, "and we shall grind our first harvest
splendidly!"

"There is no need for it to go so very fast," replied Cyrus Harding. "It
is known by experience that the greatest quantity of work is performed by
a mill when the number of turns made by the sails in a minute is six times
the number of feet traversed by the wind in a second. A moderate breeze,
which passes over twenty-four feet to the second, will give sixteen turns
to the sails during a minute, and there is no need of more."

"Exactly!" cried Herbert, "a fine breeze is blowing from the northeast,
which will soon do our business for us."

There was no reason for delaying the inauguration of the mill, for the
settlers were eager to taste the first piece of bread in Lincoln Island.
On this morning two or three bushels of wheat were ground, and the next
day at breakfast a magnificent loaf, a little heavy perhaps, although
raised with yeast, appeared on the table at Granite House. Every one
munched away at it with a pleasure which may be easily understood.

In the meanwhile, the stranger had not reappeared. Several times Gideon
Spilett and Herbert searched the forest in the neighborhood of Granite
House, without meeting or finding any trace of him. They became seriously
uneasy at this prolonged absence. Certainly, the former savage of Tabor
island could not be perplexed how to live in the forest, abounding in
game, but was it not to be feared that he had resumed his habits, and that
this freedom would revive in him his wild instincts? However, Harding, by
a sort of presentiment, doubtless, always persisted in saying that the
fugitive would return.

"Yes, he will return!" he repeated with a confidence which his companions
could not share. "When this unfortunate man was on Tabor Island, he knew
himself to be alone! Here, he knows that fellow-men are awaiting him!
Since he has partially spoken of his past life, the poor penitent will
return to tell the whole, and from that day he will belong to us!"

The event justified Cyrus Harding's predictions. On the 3rd of December,
Herbert had left the plateau to go and fish on the southern bank of the
lake. He was unarmed, and till then had never taken any precautions for
defense, as dangerous animals had not shown themselves on that part of the
island.

Meanwhile, Pencroft and Neb were working in the poultry-yard, while
Harding and the reporter were occupied at the Chimneys in making soda, the
store of soap being exhausted.

Suddenly cries resounded,—

"Help! help!"

Cyrus Harding and the reporter, being at too great a distance, had not
been able to hear the shouts. Pencroft and Neb, leaving the poultry-yard
in all haste, rushed towards the lake.

But before then, the stranger, whose presence at this place no one had
suspected, crossed Creek Glycerine, which separated the plateau from the
forest, and bounded up the opposite bank.

Herbert was there face to face with a fierce jaguar, similar to the one
which had been killed on Reptile End. Suddenly surprised, he was standing
with his back against a tree, while the animal gathering itself together
was about to spring.

But the stranger, with no other weapon than a knife, rushed on the
formidable animal, who turned to meet this new adversary.

The struggle was short. The stranger possessed immense strength and
activity. He seized the jaguar's throat with one powerful hand, holding it
as in a vise, without heeding the beast's claws which tore his flesh, and
with the other he plunged his knife into its heart.

The jaguar fell. The stranger kicked away the body, and was about to fly
at the moment when the settlers arrived on the field of battle, but
Herbert, clinging to him, cried,—

"No, no! you shall not go!"

Harding advanced towards the stranger, who frowned when he saw him
approaching. The blood flowed from his shoulder under his torn shirt, but
he took no notice of it.

"My friend," said Cyrus Harding, "we have just contracted a debt of
gratitude to you. To save our boy you have risked your life!"

"My life!" murmured the stranger. "What is that worth? Less than nothing!"

"You are wounded?"

"It is no matter."

"Will you give me your hand?"

And as Herbert endeavored to seize the hand which had just saved him, the
stranger folded his arms, his chest heaved, his look darkened, and he
appeared to wish to escape, but making a violent effort over himself, and
in an abrupt tone,—

"Who are you?" he asked, "and what do you claim to be to me?"

It was the colonists' history which he thus demanded, and for the first
time. Perhaps this history recounted, he would tell his own.

In a few words Harding related all that had happened since their departure
from Richmond; how they had managed, and what resources they now had at
their disposal.

The stranger listened with extreme attention.

Then the engineer told who they all were, Gideon Spilett, Herbert,
Pencroft, Neb, himself, and, he added, that the greatest happiness they
had felt since their arrival in Lincoln Island was on the return of the
vessel from Tabor Island, when they had been able to include among them a
new companion.

At these words the stranger's face flushed, his head sunk on his breast,
and confusion was depicted on his countenance.

"And now that you know us," added Cyrus Harding, "will you give us your
hand?"

"No," replied the stranger in a hoarse voice; "no! You are honest men! And
I—"

Chapter 17

These last words justified the colonists' presentiment. There had been
some mournful past, perhaps expiated in the sight of men, but from which
his conscience had not yet absolved him. At any rate the guilty man felt
remorse, he repented, and his new friends would have cordially pressed the
hand which they sought; but he did not feel himself worthy to extend it to
honest men! However, after the scene with the jaguar, he did not return to
the forest, and from that day did not go beyond the enclosure of Granite
House.

What was the mystery of his life? Would the stranger one day speak of it?
Time alone could show. At any rate, it was agreed that his secret should
never be asked from him, and that they would live with him as if they
suspected nothing.

For some days their life continued as before. Cyrus Harding and Gideon
Spilett worked together, sometimes chemists, sometimes experimentalists.
The reporter never left the engineer except to hunt with Herbert, for it
would not have been prudent to allow the lad to ramble alone in the
forest; and it was very necessary to be on their guard. As to Neb and
Pencroft, one day at the stables and poultry-yard, another at the corral,
without reckoning work in Granite House, they were never in want of
employment.

The stranger worked alone, and he had resumed his usual life, never
appearing at meals, sleeping under the trees in the plateau, never
mingling with his companions. It really seemed as if the society of those
who had saved him was insupportable to him!

"But then," observed Pencroft, "why did he entreat the help of his
fellow-creatures? Why did he throw that paper into the sea?"

"He will tell us why," invariably replied Cyrus Harding.

"When?"

"Perhaps sooner than you think, Pencroft."

And, indeed, the day of confession was near.

On the 10th of December, a week after his return to Granite House, Harding
saw the stranger approaching, who, in a calm voice and humble tone, said
to him: "Sir, I have a request to make of you."

"Speak," answered the engineer, "but first let me ask you a question."

At these words the stranger reddened, and was on the point of withdrawing.
Cyrus Harding understood what was passing in the mind of the guilty man,
who doubtless feared that the engineer would interrogate him on his past
life.

Harding held him back.

"Comrade," said he, "we are not only your companions but your friends. I
wish you to believe that, and now I will listen to you."

The stranger pressed his hand over his eyes. He was seized with a sort of
trembling, and remained a few moments without being able to articulate a
word.

"Sir," said he at last, "I have come to beg you to grant me a favor."

"What is it?"

"You have, four or five miles from here, a corral for your domesticated
animals. These animals need to be taken care of. Will you allow me to live
there with them?"

Cyrus Harding gazed at the unfortunate man for a few moments with a
feeling of deep commiseration; then,—

"My friend," said he, "the corral has only stables hardly fit for
animals."

"It will be good enough for me, sir."

"My friend," answered Harding, "we will not constrain you in anything. You
wish to live at the corral, so be it. You will, however, be always welcome
at Granite House. But since you wish to live at the corral we will make
the necessary arrangements for your being comfortably established there."

"Never mind that, I shall do very well."

"My friend," answered Harding, who always intentionally made use of this
cordial appellation, "you must let us judge what it will be best to do in
this respect."

"Thank you, sir," replied the stranger as he withdrew.

The engineer then made known to his companions the proposal which had been
made to him, and it was agreed that they should build a wooden house at
the corral, which they would make as comfortable as possible.

That very day the colonists repaired to the corral with the necessary
tools, and a week had not passed before the house was ready to receive its
tenant. It was built about twenty feet from the sheds, and from there it
was easy to overlook the flock of sheep, which then numbered more than
eighty. Some furniture, a bed, table, bench, cupboard, and chest were
manufactured, and a gun, ammunition, and tools were carried to the corral.

The stranger, however, had seen nothing of his new dwelling, and he had
allowed the settlers to work there without him, while he occupied himself
on the plateau, wishing, doubtless, to put the finishing stroke to his
work. Indeed, thanks to him, all the ground was dug up and ready to be
sowed when the time came.

It was on the 20th of December that all the arrangements at the corral
were completed. The engineer announced to the stranger that his dwelling
was ready to receive him, and the latter replied that he would go and
sleep there that very evening.

On this evening the colonists were gathered in the diningroom of Granite
House. It was then eight o'clock, the hour at which their companion was to
leave them. Not wishing to trouble him by their presence, and thus
imposing on him the necessity of saying farewells which might perhaps be
painful to him, they had left him alone and ascended to Granite House.

Now, they had been talking in the room for a few minutes, when a light
knock was heard at the door. Almost immediately the stranger entered, and
without any preamble,—

"Gentlemen," said he, "before I leave you, it is right that you should
know my history. I will tell it you."

These simple words profoundly impressed Cyrus Harding and his companions.
The engineer rose.

"We ask you nothing, my friend," said he; "it is your right to be silent."

"It is my duty to speak."

"Sit down, then."

"No, I will stand."

"We are ready to hear you," replied Harding.

The stranger remained standing in a corner of the room, a little in the
shade. He was bareheaded, his arms folded across his chest, and it was in
this posture that in a hoarse voice, speaking like some one who obliges
himself to speak, he gave the following recital, which his auditors did
not once interrupt:—

"On the 20th of December, 1854, a steam-yacht, belonging to a Scotch
nobleman, Lord Glenarvan, anchored off Cape Bernouilli, on the western
coast of Australia, in the thirty-seventh parallel. On board this yacht
were Lord Glenarvan and his wife, a major in the English army, a French
geographer, a young girl, and a young boy. These two last were the
children of Captain Grant, whose ship, the 'Britannia,' had been lost,
crew and cargo, a year before. The 'Duncan' was commanded by Captain John
Mangles, and manned by a crew of fifteen men.

"This is the reason the yacht at this time lay off the coast of Australia.
Six months before, a bottle, enclosing a document written in English,
German, and French, had been found in the Irish Sea, and picked up by the
'Duncan.' This document stated in substance that there still existed three
survivors from the wreck of the 'Britannia,' that these survivors were
Captain Grant and two of his men, and that they had found refuge on some
land, of which the document gave the latitude, but of which the longitude,
effaced by the sea, was no longer legible.

"This latitude was 37deg 11' south; therefore, the longitude being
unknown, if they followed the thirty-seventh parallel over continents and
seas, they would be certain to reach the spot inhabited by Captain Grant
and his two companions. The English Admiralty having hesitated to
undertake this search, Lord Glenarvan resolved to attempt everything to
find the captain. He communicated with Mary and Robert Grant, who joined
him. The 'Duncan' yacht was equipped for the distant voyage, in which the
nobleman's family and the captain's children wished to take part, and the
'Duncan,' leaving Glasgow, proceeded towards the Atlantic, passed through
the Straits of Magellan, and ascended the Pacific as far as Patagonia,
where, according to a previous interpretation of the document, they
supposed that Captain Grant was a prisoner among the Indians.

"The 'Duncan' disembarked her passengers on the western coast of
Patagonia, and sailed to pick them up again on the eastern coast at Cape
Corrientes. Lord Glenarvan traversed Patagonia, following the
thirty-seventh parallel, and having found no trace of the captain, he
re-embarked on the 13th of November, so as to pursue his search through
the Ocean.

"After having unsuccessfully visited the islands of Tristan d'Acunha and
Amsterdam, situated in her course, the 'Duncan,' as I have said, arrived
at Cape Bernouilli, on the Australian coast, on the 20th of December,
1854.

"It was Lord Glenarvan's intention to traverse Australia as he had
traversed America, and he disembarked. A few miles from the coast was
established a farm, belonging to an Irishman, who offered hospitality to
the travelers. Lord Glenarvan made known to the Irishman the cause which
had brought him to these parts, and asked if he knew whether a
three-masted English vessel, the 'Britannia,' had been lost less than two
years before on the west coast of Australia.

"The Irishman had never heard of this wreck, but, to the great surprise of
the bystanders, one of his servants came forward and said,—

"'My lord, praise and thank God! If Captain Grant is still living, he is
living on the Australian shores.'

"'Who are you?' asked Lord Glenarvan.

"'A Scotchman like yourself, my lord,' replied the man; 'I am one of
Captain Grant's crew—one of the castaways of the "Britannia.'"

"This man was called Ayrton. He was, in fact, the boatswain's mate of the
'Britannia,' as his papers showed. But, separated from Captain Grant at
the moment when the ship struck upon the rocks, he had till then believed
that the captain with all his crew had perished, and that he, Ayrton, was
the sole survivor of the 'Britannia.'

"'Only,' he added, 'it was not on the west coast, but on the east coast of
Australia that the vessel was lost, and if Captain Grant is still living,
as his document indicates, he is a prisoner among the natives, and it is
on the other coast that he must be looked for.'

"This man spoke in a frank voice and with a confident look; his words
could not be doubted. The Irishman, in whose service he had been for more
than a year, answered for his trustworthiness. Lord Glenarvan, therefore,
believed in the fidelity of this man and, by his advice, resolved to cross
Australia, following the thirty-seventh parallel. Lord Glenarvan, his
wife, the two children, the major, the Frenchman, Captain Mangles, and a
few sailors composed the little band under the command of Ayrton, while
the 'Duncan,' under charge of the mate, Tom Austin, proceeded to
Melbourne, there to await Lord Glenarvan's instructions.

"They set out on the 23rd of December, 1854.

"It is time to say that Ayrton was a traitor. He was, indeed, the
boatswain's mate of the 'Britannia,' but, after some dispute with his
captain, he endeavored to incite the crew to mutiny and seize the ship,
and Captain Grant had landed him, on the 8th of April, 1852, on the west
coast of Australia, and then sailed, leaving him there, as was only just.

"Therefore this wretched man knew nothing of the wreck of the 'Britannia';
he had just heard of it from Glenarvan's account. Since his abandonment,
he had become, under the name of Ben Joyce, the leader of the escaped
convicts; and if he boldly maintained that the wreck had taken place on
the east coast, and led Lord Glenarvan to proceed in that direction, it
was that he hoped to separate him from his ship, seize the 'Duncan,' and
make the yacht a pirate in the Pacific."

Here the stranger stopped for a moment. His voice trembled, but he
continued,—

"The expedition set out and proceeded across Australia. It was inevitably
unfortunate, since Ayrton, or Ben Joyce, as he may be called, guided it,
sometimes preceded, sometimes followed by his band of convicts, who had
been told what they had to do.

"Meanwhile, the 'Duncan' had been sent to Melbourne for repairs. It was
necessary, then, to get Lord Glenarvan to order her to leave Melbourne and
go to the east coast of Australia, where it would be easy to seize her.
After having led the expedition near enough to the coast, in the midst of
vast forests with no resources, Ayrton obtained a letter, which he was
charged to carry to the mate of the 'Duncan'—a letter which ordered
the yacht to repair immediately to the east coast, to Twofold Bay, that is
to say a few days' journey from the place where the expedition had
stopped. It was there that Ayrton had agreed to meet his accomplices, and
two days after gaining possession of the letter, he arrived at Melbourne.

"So far the villain had succeeded in his wicked design. He would be able
to take the 'Duncan' into Twofold Bay, where it would be easy for the
convicts to seize her, and her crew massacred, Ben Joyce would become
master of the seas. But it pleased God to prevent the accomplishment of
these terrible projects.

"Ayrton, arrived at Melbourne, delivered the letter to the mate, Tom
Austin, who read it and immediately set sail, but judge of Ayrton's rage
and disappointment, when the next day he found that the mate was taking
the vessel, not to the east coast of Australia, to Twofold Bay, but to the
east coast of New Zealand. He wished to stop him, but Austin showed him
the letter!... And indeed, by a providential error of the French
geographer, who had written the letter, the east coast of New Zealand was
mentioned as the place of destination.

"All Ayrton's plans were frustrated! He became outrageous. They put him in
irons. He was then taken to the coast of New Zealand, not knowing what
would become of his accomplices, or what would become of Lord Glenarvan.

"The 'Duncan' cruised about on this coast until the 3rd of March. On that
day Ayrton heard the report of guns. The guns on the 'Duncan' were being
fired, and soon Lord Glenarvan and his companions came on board.

"This is what had happened.

"After a thousand hardships, a thousand dangers, Lord Glenarvan had
accomplished his journey, and arrived on the east coast of Australia, at
Twofold Bay. 'No "Duncan!' He telegraphed to Melbourne. They answered,
"Duncan" sailed on the 18th instant. Destination unknown.'

"Lord Glenarvan could only arrive at one conclusion; that his honest yacht
had fallen into the hands of Ben Joyce, and had become a pirate vessel!

"However, Lord Glenarvan would not give up. He was a bold and generous
man. He embarked in a merchant vessel, sailed to the west coast of New
Zealand, traversed it along the thirty-seventh parallel, without finding
any trace of Captain Grant; but on the other side, to his great surprise,
and by the will of Heaven, he found the 'Duncan,' under command of the
mate, who had been waiting for him for five weeks!

"This was on the 3rd of March, 1855. Lord Glenarvan was now on board the
'Duncan,' but Ayrton was there also. He appeared before the nobleman, who
wished to extract from him all that the villain knew about Captain Grant.
Ayrton refused to speak. Lord Glenarvan then told him, that at the first
port they put into, he would be delivered up to the English authorities.
Ayrton remained mute.

"The 'Duncan' continued her voyage along the thirty-seventh parallel. In
the meanwhile, Lady Glenarvan undertook to vanquish the resistance of the
ruffian.

"At last, her influence prevailed, and Ayrton, in exchange for what he
could tell, proposed that Lord Glenarvan should leave him on some island
in the Pacific, instead of giving him up to the English authorities. Lord
Glenarvan, resolving to do anything to obtain information about Captain
Grant, consented.

"Ayrton then related all his life, and it was certain that he knew nothing
from the day on which Captain Grant had landed him on the Australian
coast.

"Nevertheless, Lord Glenarvan kept the promise which he had given. The
'Duncan' continued her voyage and arrived at Tabor Island. It was there
that Ayrton was to be landed, and it was there also that, by a veritable
miracle, they found Captain Grant and two men, exactly on the
thirty-seventh parallel.

"The convict, then, went to take their place on this desert islet, and at
the moment he left the yacht these words were pronounced by Lord
Glenarvan:—

"'Here, Ayrton, you will be far from any land, and without any possible
communication with your fellow-creatures. You cannot escape from this
islet on which the 'Duncan' leaves you. You will be alone, under the eye
of a God who reads the depths of the heart, but you will be neither lost
nor forgotten, as was Captain Grant. Unworthy as you are to be remembered
by men, men will remember you. I know where you are Ayrton, and I know
where to find you. I will never forget it!

"And the 'Duncan,' making sail, soon disappeared. This was 18th of March,
1855.

(The events which have just been briefly related are taken
from a work which some of our readers have no doubt read,
and which is entitled, "Captain Grant's children." They will
remark on this occasion, as well as later, some discrepancy
in the dates; but later again, they will understand why the
real dates were not at first given.)

"Ayrton was alone, but he had no want of either ammunition, weapons,
tools, or seeds.

"At his, the convict's disposal, was the house built by honest Captain
Grant. He had only to live and expiate in solitude the crimes which he had
committed.

"Gentlemen, he repented, he was ashamed of his crimes and was very
miserable! He said to himself, that if men came some day to take him from
that islet, he must be worthy to return among them! How he suffered, that
wretched man! How he labored to recover himself by work! How he prayed to
be reformed by prayer! For two years, three years, this went on, but
Ayrton, humbled by solitude, always looking for some ship to appear on the
horizon, asking himself if the time of expiation would soon be complete,
suffered as none other suffered! Oh! how dreadful was this solitude, to a
heart tormented by remorse!

"But doubtless Heaven had not sufficiently punished this unhappy man, for
he felt that he was gradually becoming a savage! He felt that brutishness
was gradually gaining on him!

"He could not say if it was after two or three years of solitude, but at
last he became the miserable creature you found!

"I have no need to tell you, gentlemen, that Ayrton, Ben Joyce, and I, are
the same."

Cyrus Harding and his companions rose at the end of this account. It is
impossible to say how much they were moved! What misery, grief, and
despair lay revealed before them!

"Ayrton," said Harding, rising, "you have been a great criminal, but
Heaven must certainly think that you have expiated your crimes! That has
been proved by your having been brought again among your fellow-creatures.
Ayrton, you are forgiven! And now you will be our companion?"

Ayrton drew back.

"Here is my hand!" said the engineer.

Ayrton grasped the hand which Harding extended to him, and great tears
fell from his eyes.

"Will you live with us?" asked Cyrus Harding.

"Captain Harding, leave me some time longer," replied Ayrton, "leave me
alone in the hut in the corral!"

"As you like, Ayrton," answered Cyrus Harding. Ayrton was going to
withdraw, when the engineer addressed one more question to him:—

"One word more, my friend. Since it was your intention to live alone, why
did you throw into the sea the document which put us on your track?"

"A document?" repeated Ayrton, who did not appear to know what he meant.

"Yes, the document which we found enclosed in a bottle, giving us the
exact position of Tabor Island!"

Ayrton passed his hand over his brow, then after having thought, "I never
threw any document into the sea!" he answered.

"Never?" exclaimed Pencroft.

"Never!"

And Ayrton, bowing, reached the door and departed.

Chapter 18

"Poor man!" said Herbert, who had rushed to the door, but returned, having
seen Ayrton slide down the rope on the lift and disappear in the darkness.

"He will come back," said Cyrus Harding.

"Come, now, captain," exclaimed Pencroft, "what does that mean? What!
wasn't it Ayrton who threw that bottle into the sea? Who was it then?"

Certainly, if ever a question was necessary to be made, it was that one!

"It was he," answered Neb, "only the unhappy man was half-mad."

"Yes!" said Herbert, "and he was no longer conscious of what he was
doing."

"It can only be explained in that way, my friends," replied Harding
quickly, "and I understand now how Ayrton was able to point out exactly
the situation of Tabor Island, since the events which had preceded his
being left on the island had made it known to him."

"However," observed Pencroft, "if he was not yet a brute when he wrote
that document, and if he threw it into the sea seven or eight years ago,
how is it that the paper has not been injured by damp?"

"That proves," answered Cyrus Harding, "that Ayrton was deprived of
intelligence at a more recent time than he thinks."

"Of course it must be so," replied Pencroft, "without that the fact would
be unaccountable."

"Unaccountable indeed," answered the engineer, who did not appear desirous
to prolong the conversation.

"But has Ayrton told the truth?" asked the sailor.

"Yes," replied the reporter. "The story which he has told is true in every
point. I remember quite well the account in the newspapers of the yacht
expedition undertaken by Lord Glenarvan, and its result."

"Ayrton has told the truth," added Harding. "Do not doubt it, Pencroft,
for it was painful to him. People tell the truth when they accuse
themselves like that!"

The next day—the 21st of December—the colonists descended to
the beach, and having climbed the plateau they found nothing of Ayrton. He
had reached his house in the corral during the night and the settlers
judged it best not to agitate him by their presence. Time would doubtless
perform what sympathy had been unable to accomplish.

Herbert, Pencroft, and Neb resumed their ordinary occupations. On this day
the same work brought Harding and the reporter to the workshop at the
Chimneys.

"Do you know, my dear Cyrus," said Gideon Spilett, "that the explanation
you gave yesterday on the subject of the bottle has not satisfied me at
all! How can it be supposed that the unfortunate man was able to write
that document and throw the bottle into the sea without having the
slightest recollection of it?"

"Nor was it he who threw it in, my dear Spilett."

"You think then—"

"I think nothing, I know nothing!" interrupted Cyrus Harding. "I am
content to rank this incident among those which I have not been able to
explain to this day!"

"Indeed, Cyrus," said Spilett, "these things are incredible! Your rescue,
the case stranded on the sand, Top's adventure, and lastly this bottle...
Shall we never have the answer to these enigmas?"

"Yes!" replied the engineer quickly, "yes, even if I have to penetrate
into the bowels of this island!"

"Chance will perhaps give us the key to this mystery!"

"Chance! Spilett! I do not believe in chance, any more than I believe in
mysteries in this world. There is a reason for everything unaccountable
which has happened here, and that reason I shall discover. But in the
meantime we must work and observe."

The month of January arrived. The year 1867 commenced. The summer
occupations were assiduously continued. During the days which followed,
Herbert and Spilett having gone in the direction of the corral,
ascertained that Ayrton had taken possession of the habitation which had
been prepared for him. He busied himself with the numerous flock confided
to his care, and spared his companions the trouble of coming every two or
three days to visit the corral. Nevertheless, in order not to leave Ayrton
in solitude for too long a time, the settlers often paid him a visit.

It was not unimportant either, in consequence of some suspicions
entertained by the engineer and Gideon Spilett, that this part of the
island should be subject to a surveillance of some sort, and that Ayrton,
if any incident occurred unexpectedly, should not neglect to inform the
inhabitants of Granite House of it.

Nevertheless it might happen that something would occur which it would be
necessary to bring rapidly to the engineer's knowledge. Independently of
facts bearing on the mystery of Lincoln Island, many others might happen,
which would call for the prompt interference of the colonists,—such
as the sighting of a vessel, a wreck on the western coast, the possible
arrival of pirates, etc.

It was on the 10th of January that he made known his project to his
companions.

"Why! how are you going to manage that, captain?" asked Pencroft. "Do you
by chance happen to think of establishing a telegraph?"

"Exactly so," answered the engineer.

"Electric?" cried Herbert.

"Electric," replied Cyrus Harding. "We have all the necessary materials
for making a battery, and the most difficult thing will be to stretch the
wires, but by means of a drawplate I think we shall manage it."

"Well, after that," returned the sailor, "I shall never despair of seeing
ourselves some day rolling along on a railway!"

They then set to work, beginning with the most difficult thing, for, if
they failed in that, it would be useless to manufacture the battery and
other accessories.

The iron of Lincoln Island, as has been said, was of excellent quality,
and consequently very fit for being drawn out. Harding commenced by
manufacturing a drawplate, that is to say, a plate of steel, pierced with
conical holes of different sizes, which would successively bring the wire
to the wished-for tenacity. This piece of steel, after having been
tempered, was fixed in as firm a way as possible in a solid framework
planted in the ground, only a few feet from the great fall, the motive
power of which the engineer intended to utilize. In fact as the
fulling-mill was there, although not then in use, its beam moved with
extreme power would serve to stretch out the wire by rolling it round
itself. It was a delicate operation, and required much care. The iron,
prepared previously in long thin rods, the ends of which were sharpened
with the file, having been introduced into the largest hole of the
drawplate, was drawn out by the beam which wound it round itself, to a
length of twenty-five or thirty feet, then unrolled, and the same
operation was performed successively through the holes of a less size.
Finally, the engineer obtained wires from forty to fifty feet long, which
could be easily fastened together and stretched over the distance of five
miles, which separated the corral from the bounds of Granite House.

It did not take more than a few days to perform this work, and indeed as
soon as the machine had been commenced, Cyrus Harding left his companions
to follow the trade of wiredrawers, and occupied himself with
manufacturing his battery.

It was necessary to obtain a battery with a constant current. It is known
that the elements of modern batteries are generally composed of retort
coal, zinc, and copper. Copper was absolutely wanting to the engineer,
who, notwithstanding all his researches, had never been able to find any
trace of it in Lincoln Island, and was therefore obliged to do without it.
Retort coal, that is to say, the hard graphite which is found in the
retorts of gas manufactories, after the coal has been dehydrogenized,
could have been obtained, but it would have been necessary to establish a
special apparatus, involving great labor. As to zinc, it may be remembered
that the case found at Flotsam Point was lined with this metal, which
could not be better utilized than for this purpose.

Cyrus Harding, after mature consideration, decided to manufacture a very
simple battery, resembling as nearly as possible that invented by
Becquerel in 1820, and in which zinc only is employed. The other
substances, azotic acid and potash, were all at his disposal.

The way in which the battery was composed was as follows, and the results
were to be attained by the reaction of acid and potash on each other. A
number of glass bottles were made and filled with azotic acid. The
engineer corked them by means of a stopper through which passed a glass
tube, bored at its lower extremity, and intended to be plunged into the
acid by means of a clay stopper secured by a rag. Into this tube, through
its upper extremity, he poured a solution of potash, previously obtained
by burning and reducing to ashes various plants, and in this way the acid
and potash could act on each other through the clay.

Cyrus Harding then took two slips of zinc, one of which was plunged into
azotic acid, the other into a solution of potash. A current was
immediately produced, which was transmitted from the slip of zinc in the
bottle to that in the tube, and the two slips having been connected by a
metallic wire the slip in the tube became the positive pole, and that in
the bottle the negative pole of the apparatus. Each bottle, therefore,
produced as many currents as united would be sufficient to produce all the
phenomena of the electric telegraph. Such was the ingenious and very
simple apparatus constructed by Cyrus Harding, an apparatus which would
allow them to establish a telegraphic communication between Granite House
and the corral.

On the 6th of February was commenced the planting along the road to the
corral, of posts furnished with glass insulators, and intended to support
the wire. A few days after, the wire was extended, ready to produce the
electric current at a rate of twenty thousand miles a second.

Two batteries had been manufactured, one for Granite House, the other for
the corral; for if it was necessary the corral should be able to
communicate with Granite House it might also be useful that Granite House
should be able to communicate with the corral.

As to the receiver and manipulator, they were very simple. At the two
stations the wire was wound round a magnet, that is to say, round a piece
of soft iron surrounded with a wire. The communication was thus
established between the two poles; the current, starting from the positive
pole, traversed the wire, passed through the magnet which was temporarily
magnetized, and returned through the earth to the negative pole. If the
current was interrupted, the magnet immediately became unmagnetized. It
was sufficient to place a plate of soft iron before the magnet, which,
attracted during the passage of the current, would fall back when the
current was interrupted. This movement of the plate thus obtained, Harding
could easily fasten to it a needle arranged on a dial, bearing the letters
of the alphabet, and in this way communicate from one station to the
other.

All was completely arranged by the 12th of February. On this day, Harding,
having sent the current through the wire, asked if all was going on well
at the corral, and received in a few moments a satisfactory reply from
Ayrton. Pencroft was wild with joy, and every morning and evening he sent
a telegram to the corral, which always received an answer.

This mode of communication presented two very real advantages: firstly,
because it enabled them to ascertain that Ayrton was at the corral; and
secondly, that he was thus not left completely isolated. Besides, Cyrus
Harding never allowed a week to pass without going to see him, and Ayrton
came from time to time to Granite House, where he always found a cordial
welcome.

The fine season passed away in the midst of the usual work. The resources
of the colony, particularly in vegetables and corn, increased from day to
day, and the plants brought from Tabor Island had succeeded perfectly.

The plateau of Prospect Heights presented an encouraging aspect. The
fourth harvest had been admirable and it may be supposed that no one
thought of counting whether the four hundred thousand millions of grains
duly appeared in the crop. However, Pencroft had thought of doing so, but
Cyrus Harding having told him that even if he managed to count three
hundred grains a minute, or nine thousand an hour, it would take him
nearly five thousand five-hundred years to finish his task, the honest
sailor considered it best to give up the idea.

The weather was splendid, the temperature very warm in the day time, but
in the evening the sea-breezes tempered the heat of the atmosphere and
procured cool nights for the inhabitants of Granite House. There were,
however, a few storms, which, although they were not of long duration,
swept over Lincoln Island with extraordinary fury. The lightning blazed
and the thunder continued to roll for some hours.

At this period the little colony was extremely prosperous.

The tenants of the poultry-yard swarmed, and they lived on the surplus,
but it became necessary to reduce the population to a more moderate
number. The pigs had already produced young, and it may be understood that
their care for these animals absorbed a great part of Neb and Pencroft's
time. The onagers, who had two pretty colts, were most often mounted by
Gideon Spilett and Herbert, who had become an excellent rider under the
reporter's instruction, and they also harnessed them to the cart either
for carrying wood and coal to Granite House, or different mineral
productions required by the engineer.

Several expeditions were made about this time into the depths of the Far
West Forests. The explorers could venture there without having anything to
fear from the heat, for the sun's rays scarcely penetrated through the
thick foliage spreading above their heads. They thus visited all the left
bank of the Mercy, along which ran the road from the corral to the mouth
of Falls River.

But in these excursions the settlers took care to be well armed, for they
met with savage wild boars, with which they often had a tussle. They also,
during this season, made fierce war against the jaguars. Gideon Spilett
had vowed a special hatred against them, and his pupil Herbert seconded
him well. Armed as they were, they no longer feared to meet one of those
beasts. Herbert's courage was superb, and the reporter's sang-froid
astonishing. Already twenty magnificent skins ornamented the dining-room
of Granite House, and if this continued, the jaguar race would soon be
extinct in the island, the object aimed at by the hunters.

The engineer sometimes took part in the expeditions made to the unknown
parts of the island, which he surveyed with great attention. It was for
other traces than those of animals that he searched the thickets of the
vast forest, but nothing suspicious ever appeared. Neither Top nor Jup,
who accompanied him, ever betrayed by their behavior that there was
anything strange there, and yet more than once again the dog barked at the
mouth of the well, which the engineer had before explored without result.

At this time Gideon Spilett, aided by Herbert, took several views of the
most picturesque parts of the island, by means of the photographic
apparatus found in the cases, and of which they had not as yet made any
use.

This apparatus, provided with a powerful object-glass, was very complete.
Substances necessary for the photographic reproduction, collodion for
preparing the glass plate, nitrate of silver to render it sensitive,
hyposulfate of soda to fix the prints obtained, chloride of ammonium in
which to soak the paper destined to give the positive proof, acetate of
soda and chloride of gold in which to immerse the paper, nothing was
wanting. Even the papers were there, all prepared, and before laying in
the printing-frame upon the negatives, it was sufficient to soak them for
a few minutes in the solution of nitrate of silver.

The reporter and his assistant became in a short time very skilful
operators, and they obtained fine views of the country, such as the
island, taken from Prospect Heights with Mount Franklin in the distance,
the mouth of the Mercy, so picturesquely framed in high rocks, the glade
and the corral, with the spurs of the mountain in the background, the
curious development of Claw Cape, Flotsam Point, etc.

Nor did the photographers forget to take the portraits of all the
inhabitants of the island, leaving out no one.

"It multiplies us," said Pencroft.

And the sailor was enchanted to see his own countenance, faithfully
reproduced, ornamenting the walls of Granite House, and he stopped as
willingly before this exhibition as he would have done before the richest
shop-windows in Broadway.

But it must be acknowledged that the most successful portrait was
incontestably that of Master Jup. Master Jup had sat with a gravity not to
be described, and his portrait was lifelike!

"He looks as if he was just going to grin!" exclaimed Pencroft.

And if Master Jup had not been satisfied, he would have been very
difficult to please; but he was quite contented and contemplated his own
countenance with a sentimental air which expressed some small amount of
conceit.

The summer heat ended with the month of March. The weather was sometimes
rainy, but still warm. The month of March, which corresponds to the
September of northern latitudes, was not so fine as might have been hoped.
Perhaps it announced an early and rigorous winter.

It might have been supposed one morning—the 21 st—that the
first snow had already made its appearance. In fact Herbert looking early
from one of the windows of Granite House, exclaimed,—

"Hallo! the islet is covered with snow!"

"Snow at this time?" answered the reporter, joining the boy.

Their companions were soon beside them, but could only ascertain one
thing, that not only the islet but all the beach below Granite House was
covered with one uniform sheet of white.

Cyrus Harding gazed at the sheet of white without saying anything, for he
really did not know how to explain this phenomenon, at this time of year
and in such a temperature.

"By Jove!" exclaimed Pencroft, "all our plants will be frozen!"

And the sailor was about to descend, when he was preceded by the nimble
Jup, who slid down to the sand.

But the orang had not touched the ground, when the snowy sheet arose and
dispersed in the air in such innumerable flakes that the light of the sun
was obscured for some minutes.

"Birds!" cried Herbert.

They were indeed swarms of sea-birds, with dazzling white plumage. They
had perched by thousands on the islet and on the shore, and they
disappeared in the distance, leaving the colonists amazed as if they had
been present at some transformation scene, in which summer succeeded
winter at the touch of a fairy's wand. Unfortunately the change had been
so sudden, that neither the reporter nor the lad had been able to bring
down one of these birds, of which they could not recognize the species.

A few days after came the 26th of March, the day on which, two years
before, the castaways from the air had been thrown upon Lincoln Island.

Chapter 19

Two years already! and for two years the colonists had had no
communication with their fellow-creatures! They were without news from the
civilized world, lost on this island, as completely as if they had been on
the most minute star of the celestial hemisphere!

What was now happening in their country? The picture of their native land
was always before their eyes, the land torn by civil war at the time they
left it, and which the Southern rebellion was perhaps still staining with
blood! It was a great sorrow to them, and they often talked together of
these things, without ever doubting however that the cause of the North
must triumph, for the honor of the American Confederation.

During these two years not a vessel had passed in sight of the island; or,
at least, not a sail had been seen. It was evident that Lincoln Island was
out of the usual track, and also that it was unknown,—as was besides
proved by the maps,—for though there was no port, vessels might have
visited it for the purpose of renewing their store of water. But the
surrounding ocean was deserted as far as the eye could reach, and the
colonists must rely on themselves for regaining their native land.

However, one chance of rescue existed, and this chance was discussed one
day on the first week of April, when the colonists were gathered together
in the dining-room of Granite House.

They had been talking of America, of their native country, which they had
so little hope of ever seeing again.

"Decidedly we have only one way," said Spilett, "one single way for
leaving Lincoln Island, and that is, to build a vessel large enough to
sail several hundred miles. It appears to me, that when one has built a
boat it is just as easy to build a ship!"

"And in which we might go to the Pomoutous," added Herbert, "just as
easily as we went to Tabor Island."

"I do not say no," replied Pencroft, who had always the casting vote in
maritime questions; "I do not say no, although it is not exactly the same
thing to make a long as a short voyage! If our little craft had been
caught in any heavy gale of wind during the voyage to Tabor Island, we
should have known that land was at no great distance either way; but
twelve hundred miles is a pretty long way, and the nearest land is at
least that distance!"

"Would you not, in that case, Pencroft, attempt the adventure?" asked the
reporter.

"I will attempt anything that is desired, Mr. Spilett," answered the
sailor, "and you know well that I am not a man to flinch!"

"Remember, besides, that we number another sailor amongst us now,"
remarked Neb.

"Who is that?" asked Pencroft.

"Ayrton."

"If he will consent to come," said Pencroft.

"Nonsense!" returned the reporter; "do you think that if Lord Glenarvan's
yacht had appeared at Tabor Island, while he was still living there,
Ayrton would have refused to depart?"

"You forget, my friends," then said Cyrus Harding, "that Ayrton was not in
possession of his reason during the last years of his stay there. But that
is not the question. The point is to know if we may count among our
chances of being rescued, the return of the Scotch vessel. Now, Lord
Glenarvan promised Ayrton that he would return to take him off from Tabor
Island when he considered that his crimes were expiated, and I believe
that he will return."

"Yes," said the reporter, "and I will add that he will return soon, for it
is twelve years since Ayrton was abandoned."

"Well!" answered Pencroft, "I agree with you that the nobleman will
return, and soon too. But where will he touch? At Tabor Island, and not at
Lincoln Island."

"That is the more certain," replied Herbert, "as Lincoln Island is not
even marked on the map."

"Therefore, my friends," said the engineer, "we ought to take the
necessary precautions for making our presence and that of Ayrton on
Lincoln Island known at Tabor Island."

"Certainly," answered the reporter, "and nothing is easier than to place
in the hut, which was Captain Grant's and Ayrton's dwelling, a notice
which Lord Glenarvan and his crew cannot help finding, giving the position
of our island."

"It is a pity," remarked the sailor, "that we forgot to take that
precaution on our first visit to Tabor Island."

"And why should we have done it?" asked Herbert. "At that time we did not
know Ayrton's history; we did not know that any one was likely to come
some day to fetch him, and when we did know his history, the season was
too advanced to allow us to return then to Tabor Island."

"Yes," replied Harding, "it was too late, and we must put off the voyage
until next spring."

"But suppose the Scotch yacht comes before that," said Pencroft.

"That is not probable," replied the engineer, "for Lord Glenarvan would
not choose the winter season to venture into these seas. Either he has
already returned to Tabor Island, since Ayrton has been with us, that is
to say, during the last five months and has left again; or he will not
come till later, and it will be time enough in the first fine October days
to go to Tabor Island, and leave a notice there."

"We must allow," said Neb, "that it will be very unfortunate if the
'Duncan' has returned to these parts only a few months ago!"

"I hope that it is not so," replied Cyrus Harding, "and that Heaven has
not deprived us of the best chance which remains to us."

"I think," observed the reporter, "that at any rate we shall know what we
have to depend on when we have been to Tabor Island, for if the yacht has
returned there, they will necessarily have left some traces of their
visit."

"That is evident," answered the engineer. "So then, my friends, since we
have this chance of returning to our country, we must wait patiently, and
if it is taken from us we shall see what will be best to do."

"At any rate," remarked Pencroft, "it is well understood that if we do
leave Lincoln Island, it will not be because we were uncomfortable there!"

"No, Pencroft," replied the engineer, "it will be because we are far from
all that a man holds dearest in the world, his family, his friends, his
native land!"

Matters being thus decided, the building of a vessel large enough to sail
either to the Archipelagoes in the north, or to New Zealand in the west,
was no longer talked of, and they busied themselves in their accustomed
occupations, with a view to wintering a third time in Granite House.

However, it was agreed that before the stormy weather came on, their
little vessel should be employed in making a voyage round the island. A
complete survey of the coast had not yet been made, and the colonists had
but an imperfect idea of the shore to the west and north, from the mouth
of Falls River to the Mandible Capes, as well as of the narrow bay between
them, which opened like a shark's jaws.

The plan of this excursion was proposed by Pencroft, and Cyrus Harding
fully acquiesced in it, for he himself wished to see this part of his
domain.

The weather was variable, but the barometer did not fluctuate by sudden
movements, and they could therefore count on tolerable weather. However,
during the first week of April, after a sudden barometrical fall, a
renewed rise was marked by a heavy gale of wind, lasting five or six days;
then the needle of the instrument remained stationary at a height of
twenty-nine inches and nine-tenths, and the weather appeared propitious
for an excursion.

The departure was fixed for the 16th of April, and the "Bonadventure,"
anchored in Port Balloon, was provisioned for a voyage which might be of
some duration.

Cyrus Harding informed Ayrton of the projected expedition, and proposed
that he should take part in it, but Ayrton preferring to remain on shore,
it was decided that he should come to Granite House during the absence of
his companions. Master Jup was ordered to keep him company, and made no
remonstrance.

On the morning of the 16th of April all the colonists, including Top,
embarked. A fine breeze blew from the south-west, and the "Bonadventure"
tacked on leaving Port Balloon so as to reach Reptile End. Of the ninety
miles which the perimeter of the island measured, twenty included the
south coast between the port and the promontory. The wind being right
ahead it was necessary to hug the shore.

It took the whole day to reach the promontory, for the vessel on leaving
port had only two hours of ebb tide and had therefore to make way for six
hours against the flood. It was nightfall before the promontory was
doubled.

The sailor then proposed to the engineer that they should continue sailing
slowly with two reefs in the sail. But Harding preferred to anchor a few
cable-lengths from the shore, so as to survey that part of the coast
during the day. It was agreed also that as they were anxious for a minute
exploration of the coast they should not sail during the night, but would
always, when the weather permitted it, be at anchor near the shore.

The night was passed under the promontory, and the wind having fallen,
nothing disturbed the silence. The passengers, with the exception of the
sailor, scarcely slept as well on board the "Bonadventure" as they would
have done in their rooms at Granite House, but they did sleep however.
Pencroft set sail at break of day, and by going on the larboard tack they
could keep close to the shore.

The colonists knew this beautiful wooded coast, since they had already
explored it on foot, and yet it again excited their admiration. They
coasted along as close in as possible, so as to notice everything,
avoiding always the trunks of trees which floated here and there. Several
times also they anchored, and Gideon Spilett took photographs of the
superb scenery.

About noon the "Bonadventure" arrived at the mouth of Falls River. Beyond,
on the left bank, a few scattered trees appeared, and three miles further
even these dwindled into solitary groups among the western spurs of the
mountain, whose arid ridge sloped down to the shore.

What a contrast between the northern and southern part of the coast! In
proportion as one was woody and fertile so was the other rugged and
barren! It might have been designated as one of those iron coasts, as they
are called in some countries, and its wild confusion appeared to indicate
that a sudden crystallization had been produced in the yet liquid basalt
of some distant geological sea. These stupendous masses would have
terrified the settlers if they had been cast at first on this part of the
island! They had not been able to perceive the sinister aspect of this
shore from the summit of Mount Franklin, for they overlooked it from too
great a height, but viewed from the sea it presented a wild appearance
which could not perhaps be equaled in any corner of the globe.

The "Bonadventure" sailed along this coast for the distance of half a
mile. It was easy to see that it was composed of blocks of all sizes, from
twenty to three hundred feet in height, and of all shapes, round like
towers, prismatic like steeples, pyramidal like obelisks, conical like
factory chimneys. An iceberg of the Polar seas could not have been more
capricious in its terrible sublimity! Here, bridges were thrown from one
rock to another; there, arches like those of a wave, into the depths of
which the eye could not penetrate; in one place, large vaulted excavations
presented a monumental aspect; in another, a crowd of columns, spires, and
arches, such as no Gothic cathedral ever possessed. Every caprice of
nature, still more varied than those of the imagination, appeared on this
grand coast, which extended over a length of eight or nine miles.

Cyrus Harding and his companions gazed, with a feeling of surprise
bordering on stupefaction. But, although they remained silent, Top, not
being troubled with feelings of this sort, uttered barks which were
repeated by the thousand echoes of the basaltic cliff. The engineer even
observed that these barks had something strange in them, like those which
the dog had uttered at the mouth of the well in Granite House.

"Let us go close in," said he.

And the "Bonadventure" sailed as near as possible to the rocky shore.
Perhaps some cave, which it would be advisable to explore, existed there?
But Harding saw nothing, not a cavern, not a cleft which could serve as a
retreat to any being whatever, for the foot of the cliff was washed by the
surf. Soon Top's barks ceased, and the vessel continued her course at a
few cables-length from the coast.

In the northwest part of the island the shore became again flat and sandy.
A few trees here and there rose above a low, marshy ground, which the
colonists had already surveyed, and in violent contrast to the other
desert shore, life was again manifested by the presence of myriads of
water-fowl. That evening the "Bonadventure" anchored in a small bay to the
north of the island, near the land, such was the depth of water there. The
night passed quietly, for the breeze died away with the last light of day,
and only rose again with the first streaks of dawn.

As it was easy to land, the usual hunters of the colony, that is to say,
Herbert and Gideon Spilett, went for a ramble of two hours or so, and
returned with several strings of wild duck and snipe. Top had done
wonders, and not a bird had been lost, thanks to his zeal and cleverness.

At eight o'clock in the morning the "Bonadventure" set sail, and ran
rapidly towards North Mandible Cape, for the wind was right astern and
freshening rapidly.

"However," observed Pencroft, "I should not be surprised if a gale came up
from the west. Yesterday the sun set in a very red-looking horizon, and
now, this morning, those mares-tails don't forbode anything good."

These mares-tails are cirrus clouds, scattered in the zenith, their height
from the sea being less than five thousand feet. They look like light
pieces of cotton wool, and their presence usually announces some sudden
change in the weather.

"Well," said Harding, "let us carry as much sail as possible, and run for
shelter into Shark Gulf. I think that the 'Bonadventure' will be safe
there."

"Perfectly," replied Pencroft, "and besides, the north coast is merely
sand, very uninteresting to look at."

"I shall not be sorry," resumed the engineer, "to pass not only to-night
but to-morrow in that bay, which is worth being carefully explored."

"I think that we shall be obliged to do so, whether we like it or not,"
answered Pencroft, "for the sky looks very threatening towards the west.
Dirty weather is coming on!"

"At any rate we have a favorable wind for reaching Cape Mandible,"
observed the reporter.

"A very fine wind," replied the sailor; "but we must tack to enter the
gulf, and I should like to see my way clear in these unknown quarters."

"Quarters which appear to be filled with rocks," added Herbert, "if we
judge by what we saw on the south coast of Shark Gulf."

"Pencroft," said Cyrus Harding, "do as you think best, we will leave it to
you."

"Don't make your mind uneasy, captain," replied the sailor, "I shall not
expose myself needlessly! I would rather a knife were run into my ribs
than a sharp rock into those of my 'Bonadventure!'"

That which Pencroft called ribs was the part of his vessel under water,
and he valued it more than his own skin.

"What o'clock is it?" asked Pencroft.

"Ten o'clock," replied Gideon Spilett.

"And what distance is it to the Cape, captain?"

"About fifteen miles," replied the engineer.

"That's a matter of two hours and a half," said the sailor, "and we shall
be off the Cape between twelve and one o'clock. Unluckily, the tide will
be turning at that moment, and will be ebbing out of the gulf. I am afraid
that it will be very difficult to get in, having both wind and tide
against us."

"And the more so that it is a full moon to-day," remarked Herbert, "and
these April tides are very strong."

"Well, Pencroft," asked Harding, "can you not anchor off the Cape?"

"Anchor near land, with bad weather coming on!" exclaimed the sailor.
"What are you thinking of, captain? We should run aground, of a
certainty!"

"What will you do then?"

"I shall try to keep in the offing until the flood, that is to say, till
about seven in the evening, and if there is still light enough I will try
to enter the gulf; if not, we must stand off and on during the night, and
we will enter to-morrow at sunrise."

"As I told you, Pencroft, we will leave it to you," answered Harding.

"Ah!" said Pencroft, "if there was only a lighthouse on the coast, it
would be much more convenient for sailors."

"Yes," replied Herbert, "and this time we shall have no obliging engineer
to light a fire to guide us into port!"

"Why, indeed, my dear Cyrus," said Spilett, "we have never thanked you;
but frankly, without that fire we should never have been able—"

"A fire?" asked Harding, much astonished at the reporter's words.

"We mean, captain," answered Pencroft, "that on board the 'Bonadventure'
we were very anxious during the few hours before our return, and we should
have passed to windward of the island, if it had not been for the
precaution you took of lighting a fire the night of the 19th of October,
on Prospect Heights."

"Yes, yes! That was a lucky idea of mine!" replied the engineer.

"And this time," continued the sailor, "unless the idea occurs to Ayrton,
there will be no one to do us that little service!"

"No! No one!" answered Cyrus Harding.

A few minutes after, finding himself alone in the bows of the vessel, with
the reporter, the engineer bent down and whispered,—

"If there is one thing certain in this world, Spilett, it is that I never
lighted any fire during the night of the 19th of October, neither on
Prospect Heights nor on any other part of the island!"

Chapter 20

Things happened as Pencroft had predicted, he being seldom mistaken in his
prognostications. The wind rose, and from a fresh breeze it soon increased
to a regular gale; that is to say, it acquired a speed of from forty to
forty-five miles an hour, before which a ship in the open sea would have
run under close-reefed topsails. Now, as it was nearly six o'clock when
the "Bonadventure" reached the gulf, and as at that moment the tide
turned, it was impossible to enter. They were therefore compelled to stand
off, for even if he had wished to do so, Pencroft could not have gained
the mouth of the Mercy. Hoisting the jib to the mainmast by way of a
storm-sail, he hove to, putting the head of the vessel towards the land.

Fortunately, although the wind was strong the sea, being sheltered by the
land, did not run very high. They had then little to fear from the waves,
which always endanger small craft. The "Bonadventure" would doubtlessly
not have capsized, for she was well ballasted, but enormous masses of
water falling on the deck might injure her if her timbers could not
sustain them. Pencroft, as a good sailor, was prepared for anything.
Certainly, he had great confidence in his vessel, but nevertheless he
awaited the return of day with some anxiety.

During the night, Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett had no opportunity for
talking together, and yet the words pronounced in the reporter's ear by
the engineer were well worth being discussed, together with the mysterious
influence which appeared to reign over Lincoln Island. Gideon Spilett did
not cease from pondering over this new and inexplicable incident, the
appearance of a fire on the coast of the island. The fire had actually
been seen! His companions, Herbert and Pencroft, had seen it with him! The
fire had served to signalize the position of the island during that dark
night, and they had not doubted that it was lighted by the engineer's
hand; and here was Cyrus Harding expressly declaring that he had never
done anything of the sort! Spilett resolved to recur to this incident as
soon as the "Bonadventure" returned, and to urge Cyrus Harding to acquaint
their companions with these strange facts. Perhaps it would be decided to
make in common a complete investigation of every part of Lincoln Island.

However that might be, on this evening no fire was lighted on these yet
unknown shores, which formed the entrance to the gulf, and the little
vessel stood off during the night.

When the first streaks of dawn appeared in the western horizon, the wind,
which had slightly fallen, shifted two points, and enabled Pencroft to
enter the narrow gulf with greater ease. Towards seven o'clock in the
morning, the "Bonadventure," weathering the North Mandible Cape, entered
the strait and glided on to the waters, so strangely enclosed in the frame
of lava.

"Well," said Pencroft, "this bay would make admirable roads, in which a
whole fleet could lie at their ease!"

"What is especially curious," observed Harding, "is that the gulf has been
formed by two rivers of lava, thrown out by the volcano, and accumulated
by successive eruptions. The result is that the gulf is completely
sheltered on all sides, and I believe that even in the stormiest weather,
the sea here must be as calm as a lake."

"No doubt," returned the sailor, "since the wind has only that narrow
entrance between the two capes to get in by, and, besides, the north cape
protects that of the south in a way which would make the entrance of gusts
very difficult. I declare our 'Bonadventure' could stay here from one end
of the year to the other, without even dragging at her anchor!"

"It is rather large for her!" observed the reporter.

"Well! Mr. Spilett," replied the sailor, "I agree that it is too large for
the 'Bonadventure,' but if the fleets of the Union were in want of a
harbor in the Pacific, I don't think they would ever find a better place
than this!"

"We are in the shark's mouth," remarked Neb, alluding to the form of the
gulf.

"Right into its mouth, my honest Neb!" replied Herbert, "but you are not
afraid that it will shut upon us, are you?"

"Hallo!" cried Pencroft, "here is Neb turning up his nose at my gulf, just
as I was thinking of presenting it to America!"

"But, at any rate, is the water deep enough?" asked the engineer, "for a
depth sufficient for the keel of the 'Bonadventure' would not be enough
for those of our iron-clads."

"That is easily found out," replied Pencroft.

And the sailor sounded with a long cord, which served him as a lead-line,
and to which was fastened a lump of iron. This cord measured nearly fifty
fathoms, and its entire length was unrolled without finding any bottom.

"There," exclaimed Pencroft, "our iron-clads can come here after all! They
would not run aground!"

"Indeed," said Gideon Spilett, "this gulf is a regular abyss, but, taking
into consideration the volcanic origin of the island, it is not
astonishing that the sea should offer similar depressions."

"One would say too," observed Herbert, "that these cliffs were perfectly
perpendicular; and I believe that at their foot, even with a line five or
six times longer, Pencroft would not find bottom."

"That is all very well," then said the reporter, "but I must point out to
Pencroft that his harbor is wanting in one very important respect!"

"And what is that, Mr. Spilett?"

"An opening, a cutting of some sort, to give access to the interior of the
island. I do not see a spot on which we could land." And, in fact, the
steep lava cliffs did not afford a single place suitable for landing. They
formed an insuperable barrier, recalling, but with more wildness, the
fiords of Norway. The "Bonadventure," coasting as close as possible along
the cliffs, did not discover even a projection which would allow the
passengers to leave the deck.

Pencroft consoled himself by saying that with the help of a mine they
could soon open out the cliff when that was necessary, and then, as there
was evidently nothing to be done in the gulf, he steered his vessel
towards the strait and passed out at about two o'clock in the afternoon.

"Ah!" said Neb, uttering a sigh of satisfaction.

One might really say that the honest Negro did not feel at his ease in
those enormous jaws.

The distance from Mandible Cape to the mouth of the Mercy was not more
than eight miles. The head of the "Bonadventure" was put towards Granite
House, and a fair wind filling her sails, she ran rapidly along the coast.

To the enormous lava rocks succeeded soon those capricious sand dunes,
among which the engineer had been so singularly recovered, and which
seabirds frequented in thousands.

About four o'clock, Pencroft leaving the point of the islet on his left,
entered the channel which separated it from the coast, and at five o'clock
the anchor of the "Bonadventure" was buried in the sand at the mouth of
the Mercy.

The colonists had been absent three days from their dwelling. Ayrton was
waiting for them on the beach, and Jup came joyously to meet them, giving
vent to deep grunts of satisfaction.

A complete exploration of the coast of the island had now been made, and
no suspicious appearances had been observed. If any mysterious being
resided on it, it could only be under cover of the impenetrable forest of
the Serpentine Peninsula, to which the colonists had not yet directed
their investigations.

Gideon Spilett discussed these things with the engineer, and it was agreed
that they should direct the attention of their companions to the strange
character of certain incidents which had occurred on the island, and of
which the last was the most unaccountable.

However, Harding, returning to the fact of a fire having been kindled on
the shore by an unknown hand, could not refrain from repeating for the
twentieth time to the reporter,—

"But are you quite sure of having seen it? Was it not a partial eruption
of the volcano, or perhaps some meteor?"

"No, Cyrus," answered the reporter, "it was certainly a fire lighted by
the hand of man. Besides; question Pencroft and Herbert. They saw it as I
saw it myself, and they will confirm my words."

In consequence, therefore, a few days after, on the 25th of April, in the
evening, when the settlers were all collected on Prospect Heights, Cyrus
Harding began by saying,—

"My friends, I think it my duty to call your attention to certain
incidents which have occurred in the island, on the subject of which I
shall be happy to have your advice. These incidents are, so to speak,
supernatural—"

"Supernatural!" exclaimed the sailor, emitting a volume of smoke from his
mouth. "Can it be possible that our island is supernatural?"

"No, Pencroft, but mysterious, most certainly," replied the engineer;
"unless you can explain that which Spilett and I have until now failed to
understand."

"Speak away, captain," answered the sailor.

"Well, have you understood," then said the engineer, "how was it that
after falling into the sea, I was found a quarter of a mile into the
interior of the island, and that, without my having any consciousness of
my removal there?"

"Unless, being unconscious—" said Pencroft.

"That is not admissible," replied the engineer. "But to continue. Have you
understood how Top was able to discover your retreat five miles from the
cave in which I was lying?"

"The dog's instinct—" observed Herbert.

"Singular instinct!" returned the reporter, "since notwithstanding the
storm of rain and wind which was raging during that night, Top arrived at
the Chimneys, dry and without a speck of mud!"

"Let us continue," resumed the engineer. "Have you understood how our dog
was so strangely thrown up out of the water of the lake, after his
struggle with the dugong?"

"No! I confess, not at all," replied Pencroft, "and the wound which the
dugong had in its side, a wound which seemed to have been made with a
sharp instrument; that can't be understood, either."

"Let us continue again," said Harding. "Have you understood, my friends,
how that bullet got into the body of the young peccary; how that case
happened to be so fortunately stranded, without there being any trace of a
wreck; how that bottle containing the document presented itself so
opportunely, during our first sea-excursion; how our canoe, having broken
its moorings, floated down the current of the Mercy and rejoined us at the
very moment we needed it; how after the ape invasion the ladder was so
obligingly thrown down from Granite House; and lastly, how the document,
which Ayrton asserts was never written by him, fell into our hands?"

As Cyrus Harding thus enumerated, without forgetting one, the singular
incidents which had occurred in the island, Herbert, Neb, and Pencroft
stared at each other, not knowing what to reply, for this succession of
incidents, grouped thus for the first time, could not but excite their
surprise to the highest degree.

"'Pon my word," said Pencroft at last, "you are right, captain, and it is
difficult to explain all these things!"

"Well, my friends," resumed the engineer, "a last fact has just been added
to these, and it is no less incomprehensible than the others!"

"What is it, captain?" asked Herbert quickly.

"When you were returning from Tabor Island, Pencroft," continued the
engineer, "you said that a fire appeared on Lincoln Island?"

"Certainly," answered the sailor.

"And you are quite certain of having seen this fire?"

"As sure as I see you now."

"You also, Herbert?"

"Why, captain," cried Herbert, "that fire was blazing like a star of the
first magnitude!"

"But was it not a star?" urged the engineer.

"No," replied Pencroft, "for the sky was covered with thick clouds, and at
any rate a star would not have been so low on the horizon. But Mr. Spilett
saw it as well as we, and he will confirm our words."

"I will add," said the reporter, "that the fire was very bright, and that
it shot up like a sheet of lightning."

"Yes, yes! exactly," added Herbert, "and it was certainly placed on the
heights of Granite House."

"Well, my friends," replied Cyrus Harding, "during the night of the 19th
of October, neither Neb nor I lighted any fire on the coast."

"You did not!" exclaimed Pencroft, in the height of his astonishment, not
being able to finish his sentence.

"We did not leave Granite House," answered Cyrus Harding, "and if a fire
appeared on the coast, it was lighted by another hand than ours!"

Pencroft, Herbert, and Neb were stupefied. No illusion could be possible,
and a fire had actually met their eyes during the night of the 19th of
October. Yes! they had to acknowledge it, a mystery existed! An
inexplicable influence, evidently favorable to the colonists, but very
irritating to their curiosity, was executed always in the nick of time on
Lincoln Island. Could there be some being hidden in its profoundest
recesses? It was necessary at any cost to ascertain this.

Harding also reminded his companions of the singular behavior of Top and
Jup when they prowled round the mouth of the well, which placed Granite
House in communication with the sea, and he told them that he had explored
the well, without discovering anything suspicious. The final resolve
taken, in consequence of this conversation, by all the members of the
colony, was that as soon as the fine season returned they would thoroughly
search the whole of the island.

But from that day Pencroft appeared to be anxious. He felt as if the
island which he had made his own personal property belonged to him
entirely no longer, and that he shared it with another master, to whom,
willing or not, he felt subject. Neb and he often talked of those
unaccountable things, and both, their natures inclining them to the
marvelous, were not far from believing that Lincoln Island was under the
dominion of some supernatural power.

In the meanwhile, the bad weather came with the month of May, the November
of the northern zones. It appeared that the winter would be severe and
forward. The preparations for the winter season were therefore commenced
without delay.

Nevertheless, the colonists were well prepared to meet the winter, however
hard it might be. They had plenty of felt clothing, and the musmons, very
numerous by this time, had furnished an abundance of wool necessary for
the manufacture of this warm material.

It is unnecessary to say that Ayrton had been provided with this
comfortable clothing. Cyrus Harding proposed that he should come to spend
the bad season with them in Granite House, where he would be better lodged
than at the corral, and Ayrton promised to do so, as soon as the last work
at the corral was finished. He did this towards the middle of April. From
that time Ayrton shared the common life, and made himself useful on all
occasions; but still humble and sad, he never took part in the pleasures
of his companions.

For the greater part of this, the third winter which the settlers passed
in Lincoln Island, they were confined to Granite House. There were many
violent storms and frightful tempests, which appeared to shake the rocks
to their very foundations. Immense waves threatened to overwhelm the
island, and certainly any vessel anchored near the shore would have been
dashed to pieces. Twice, during one of these hurricanes, the Mercy swelled
to such a degree as to give reason to fear that the bridges would be swept
away, and it was necessary to strengthen those on the shore, which
disappeared under the foaming waters, when the sea beat against the beach.

It may well be supposed that such storms, comparable to water-spouts in
which were mingled rain and snow, would cause great havoc on the plateau
of Prospect Heights. The mill and the poultry-yard particularly suffered.
The colonists were often obliged to make immediate repairs, without which
the safety of the birds would have been seriously threatened.

During the worst weather, several jaguars and troops of quadrumana
ventured to the edge of the plateau, and it was always to be feared that
the most active and audacious would, urged by hunger, manage to cross the
stream, which besides, when frozen, offered them an easy passage.
Plantations and domestic animals would then have been infallibly
destroyed, without a constant watch, and it was often necessary to make
use of the guns to keep those dangerous visitors at a respectful distance.
Occupation was not wanting to the colonists, for without reckoning their
out-door cares, they had always a thousand plans for the fitting up of
Granite House.

They had also some fine sporting excursions, which were made during the
frost in the vast Tadorn Marsh. Gideon Spilett and Herbert, aided by Jup
and Top, did not miss a shot in the midst of myriads of wild-duck, snipe,
teal, and others. The access to these hunting-grounds was easy; besides,
whether they reached them by the road to Port Balloon, after having passed
the Mercy Bridge, or by turning the rocks from Flotsam Point, the hunters
were never distant from Granite House more than two or three miles.

Thus passed the four winter months, which were really rigorous, that is to
say, June, July, August, and September. But, in short, Granite House did
not suffer much from the inclemency of the weather, and it was the same
with the corral, which, less exposed than the plateau, and sheltered
partly by Mount Franklin, only received the remains of the hurricanes,
already broken by the forests and the high rocks of the shore. The damages
there were consequently of small importance, and the activity and skill of
Ayrton promptly repaired them, when some time in October he returned to
pass a few days in the corral.

During this winter, no fresh inexplicable incident occurred. Nothing
strange happened, although Pencroft and Neb were on the watch for the most
insignificant facts to which they attached any mysterious cause. Top and
Jup themselves no longer growled round the well or gave any signs of
uneasiness. It appeared, therefore, as if the series of supernatural
incidents was interrupted, although they often talked of them during the
evenings in Granite House, and they remained thoroughly resolved that the
island should be searched, even in those parts the most difficult to
explore. But an event of the highest importance, and of which the
consequences might be terrible, momentarily diverted from their projects
Cyrus Harding and his companions.

It was the month of October. The fine season was swiftly returning. Nature
was reviving; and among the evergreen foliage of the coniferae which
formed the border of the wood, already appeared the young leaves of the
banksias, deodars, and other trees.

It may be remembered that Gideon Spilett and Herbert had, at different
times, taken photographic views of Lincoln Island.

Now, on the 17th of this month of October, towards three o'clock in the
afternoon, Herbert, enticed by the charms of the sky, thought of
reproducing Union Bay, which was opposite to Prospect Heights, from Cape
Mandible to Claw Cape.

The horizon was beautifully clear, and the sea, undulating under a soft
breeze, was as calm as the waters of a lake, sparkling here and there
under the sun's rays.

The apparatus had been placed at one of the windows of the dining-room at
Granite House, and consequently overlooked the shore and the bay. Herbert
proceeded as he was accustomed to do, and the negative obtained, he went
away to fix it by means of the chemicals deposited in a dark nook of
Granite House.

Returning to the bright light, and examining it well, Herbert perceived on
his negative an almost imperceptible little spot on the sea horizon. He
endeavored to make it disappear by reiterated washing, but could not
accomplish it.

"It is a flaw in the glass," he thought.

And then he had the curiosity to examine this flaw with a strong magnifier
which he unscrewed from one of the telescopes.

But he had scarcely looked at it, when he uttered a cry, and the glass
almost fell from his hands.

Immediately running to the room in which Cyrus Harding then was, he
extended the negative and magnifier towards the engineer, pointing out the
little spot.

Harding examined it; then seizing his telescope he rushed to the window.

The telescope, after having slowly swept the horizon, at last stopped on
the looked-for spot, and Cyrus Harding, lowering it, pronounced one word
only,—

"A vessel!"

And in fact a vessel was in sight, off Lincoln Island!

PART 3. THE SECRET OF THE ISLAND

Chapter 1

It was now two years and a half since the castaways from the balloon had
been thrown on Lincoln Island, and during that period there had been no
communication between them and their fellow-creatures. Once the reporter
had attempted to communicate with the inhabited world by confiding to a
bird a letter which contained the secret of their situation, but that was
a chance on which it was impossible to reckon seriously. Ayrton, alone,
under the circumstances which have been related, had come to join the
little colony. Now, suddenly, on this day, the 17th of October, other men
had unexpectedly appeared in sight of the island, on that deserted sea!

There could be no doubt about it! A vessel was there! But would she pass
on, or would she put into port? In a few hours the colonists would
definitely know what to expect.

Cyrus Harding and Herbert having immediately called Gideon Spilett,
Pencroft, and Neb into the dining-room of Granite House, told them what
had happened. Pencroft, seizing the telescope, rapidly swept the horizon,
and stopping on the indicated point, that is to say, on that which had
made the almost imperceptible spot on the photographic negative,—

"I'm blessed but it is really a vessel!" he exclaimed, in a voice which
did not express any great amount of satisfaction.

"Is she coming here?" asked Gideon Spilett.

"Impossible to say anything yet," answered Pencroft, "for her rigging
alone is above the horizon, and not a bit of her hull can be seen."

"What is to be done?" asked the lad.

"Wait," replied Harding.

And for a considerable time the settlers remained silent, given up to all
the thoughts, and the emotions, all the fears, all the hopes, which were
aroused by this incident—the most important which had occurred since
their arrival in Lincoln Island. Certainly, the colonists were not in the
situation of castaways abandoned on a sterile islet, constantly contending
against a cruel nature for their miserable existence, and incessantly
tormented by the longing to return to inhabited countries. Pencroft and
Neb, especially, who felt themselves at once so happy and so rich, would
not have left their island without regret. They were accustomed, besides,
to this new life in the midst of the domain which their intelligence had
as it were civilized. But at any rate this ship brought news from the
world, perhaps even from their native land. It was bringing
fellow-creatures to them, and it may be conceived how deeply their hearts
were moved at the sight!

From time to time Pencroft took the glass and rested himself at the
window. From thence he very attentively examined the vessel, which was at
a distance of twenty miles to the east. The colonists had as yet,
therefore, no means of signalizing their presence. A flag would not have
been perceived; a gun would not have been heard; a fire would not have
been visible. However, it was certain that the island, overtopped by Mount
Franklin, could not escape the notice of the vessel's lookout. But why was
the ship coming there? Was it simple chance which brought it to that part
of the Pacific, where the maps mentioned no land except Tabor Island,
which itself was out of the route usually followed by vessels from the
Polynesian Archipelagoes, from New Zealand, and from the American coast?
To this question, which each one asked himself, a reply was suddenly made
by Herbert.

"Can it be the 'Duncan'?" he cried.

The "Duncan," as has been said, was Lord Glenarvan's yacht, which had left
Ayrton on the islet, and which was to return there someday to fetch him.
Now, the islet was not so far distant from Lincoln Island, but that a
vessel, standing for the one, could pass in sight of the other. A hundred
and fifty miles only separated them in longitude, and seventy in latitude.

"We must tell Ayrton," said Gideon Spilett, "and send for him immediately.
He alone can say if it is the 'Duncan.'"

This was the opinion of all, and the reporter, going to the telegraphic
apparatus which placed the corral in communication with Granite House,
sent this telegram:—"Come with all possible speed."

In a few minutes the bell sounded.

"I am coming," replied Ayrton.

Then the settlers continued to watch the vessel.

"If it is the 'Duncan,'" said Herbert, "Ayrton will recognize her without
difficulty, since he sailed on board her for some time."

"And if he recognizes her," added Pencroft, "it will agitate him
exceedingly!"

"Yes," answered Cyrus Harding; "but now Ayrton is worthy to return on
board the 'Duncan,' and pray Heaven that it is indeed Lord Glenarvan's
yacht, for I should be suspicious of any other vessel. These are ill-famed
seas, and I have always feared a visit from Malay pirates to our island."

"We could defend it,', cried Herbert.

"No doubt, my boy," answered the engineer smiling, "but it would be better
not to have to defend it."

"A useless observation," said Spilett. "Lincoln Island is unknown to
navigators, since it is not marked even on the most recent maps. Do you
think, Cyrus, that that is a sufficient motive for a ship, finding herself
unexpectedly in sight of new land, to try and visit rather than avoid it?"

"Certainly," replied Pencroft.

"I think so too," added the engineer. "It may even be said that it is the
duty of a captain to come and survey any land or island not yet known, and
Lincoln Island is in this position."

"Well," said Pencroft, "suppose this vessel comes and anchors there a few
cables-lengths from our island, what shall we do?"

This sudden question remained at first without any reply. But Cyrus
Harding, after some moments' thought, replied in the calm tone which was
usual to him,—

"What we shall do, my friends? What we ought to do is this:—we will
communicate with the ship, we will take our passage on board her, and we
will leave our island, after having taken possession of it in the name of
the United States. Then we will return with any who may wish to follow us
to colonize it definitely, and endow the American Republic with a useful
station in this part of the Pacific Ocean!"

"Hurrah!" exclaimed Pencroft, "and that will be no small present which we
shall make to our country! The colonization is already almost finished;
names are given to every part of the island; there is a natural port,
fresh water, roads, a telegraph, a dockyard, and manufactories; and there
will be nothing to be done but to inscribe Lincoln Island on the maps!"

"But if anyone seizes it in our absence?" observed Gideon Spilett.

"Hang it!" cried the sailor. "I would rather remain all alone to guard it:
and trust to Pencroft, they shouldn't steal it from him, like a watch from
the pocket of a swell!"

For an hour it was impossible to say with any certainty whether the vessel
was or was not standing towards Lincoln Island. She was nearer, but in
what direction was she sailing? This Pencroft could not determine.
However, as the wind was blowing from the northeast, in all probability
the vessel was sailing on the starboard tack. Besides, the wind was
favorable for bringing her towards the island, and, the sea being calm,
she would not be afraid to approach although the shallows were not marked
on the chart.

Towards four o'clock—an hour after he had been sent for—Ayrton
arrived at Granite House. He entered the dining-room saying,—

"At your service, gentlemen."

Cyrus Harding gave him his hand, as was his custom to do, and, leading him
to the window,—

"Ayrton," said he, "we have begged you to come here for an important
reason. A ship is in sight of the island."

Ayrton at first paled slightly, and for a moment his eyes became dim;
then, leaning out the window, he surveyed the horizon, but could see
nothing.

"Take this telescope," said Spilett, "and look carefully, Ayrton, for it
is possible that this ship may be the 'Duncan' come to these seas for the
purpose of taking you home again."

"The 'Duncan!'" murmured Ayrton. "Already?" This last word escaped
Ayrton's lips as if involuntarily, and his head drooped upon his hands.

Did not twelve years' solitude on a desert island appear to him a
sufficient expiation? Did not the penitent yet feel himself pardoned,
either in his own eyes or in the eyes of others?

"No," said he, "no! it cannot be the 'Duncan'!"

"Look, Ayrton," then said the engineer, "for it is necessary that we
should know beforehand what to expect."

Ayrton took the glass and pointed it in the direction indicated. During
some minutes he examined the horizon without moving, without uttering a
word. Then,—

"It is indeed a vessel," said he, "but I do not think she is the
'Duncan.'"

"Why do you not think so?" asked Gideon Spilett.

"Because the 'Duncan' is a steam-yacht, and I cannot perceive any trace of
smoke either above or near that vessel."

"Perhaps she is simply sailing," observed Pencroft. "The wind is favorable
for the direction which she appears to be taking, and she may be anxious
to economize her coal, being so far from land."

"It is possible that you may be right, Mr. Pencroft," answered Ayrton,
"and that the vessel has extinguished her fires. We must wait until she is
nearer, and then we shall soon know what to expect."

So saying, Ayrton sat down in a corner of the room and remained silent.
The colonists again discussed the strange ship, but Ayrton took no part in
the conversation. All were in such a mood that they found it impossible to
continue their work. Gideon Spilett and Pencroft were particularly
nervous, going, coming, not able to remain still in one place. Herbert
felt more curiosity. Neb alone maintained his usual calm manner. Was not
his country that where his master was? As to the engineer, he remained
plunged in deep thought, and in his heart feared rather than desired the
arrival of the ship. In the meanwhile, the vessel was a little nearer the
island. With the aid of the glass, it was ascertained that she was a brig,
and not one of those Malay proas, which are generally used by the pirates
of the Pacific. It was, therefore, reasonable to believe that the
engineer's apprehensions would not be justified, and that the presence of
this vessel in the vicinity of the island was fraught with no danger.

Pencroft, after a minute examination, was able positively to affirm that
the vessel was rigged as a brig, and that she was standing obliquely
towards the coast, on the starboard tack, under her topsails and
top-gallant-sails. This was confirmed by Ayrton. But by continuing in this
direction she must soon disappear behind Claw Cape, as the wind was from
the southwest, and to watch her it would be then necessary to ascend the
height of Washington Bay, near Port Balloon—a provoking
circumstance, for it was already five o'clock in the evening, and the
twilight would soon make any observation extremely difficult.

"What shall we do when night comes on?" asked Gideon Spilett. "Shall we
light a fire, so as to signal our presence on the coast?"

This was a serious question, and yet, although the engineer still retained
some of his presentiments, it was answered in the affirmative. During the
night the ship might disappear and leave for ever, and, this ship gone,
would another ever return to the waters of Lincoln Island? Who could
foresee what the future would then have in store for the colonists?

"Yes," said the reporter, "we ought to make known to that vessel, whoever
she may be, that the island is inhabited. To neglect the opportunity which
is offered to us might be to create everlasting regrets."

It was therefore decided that Neb and Pencroft should go to Port Balloon,
and that there, at nightfall, they should light an immense fire, the blaze
of which would necessarily attract the attention of the brig.

But at the moment when Neb and the sailor were preparing to leave Granite
House, the vessel suddenly altered her course, and stood directly for
Union Bay. The brig was a good sailer, for she approached rapidly. Neb and
Pencroft put off their departure, therefore, and the glass was put into
Ayrton's hands, that he might ascertain for certain whether the ship was
or was not the "Duncan." The Scotch yacht was also rigged as a brig. The
question was, whether a chimney could be discerned between the two masts
of the vessel, which was now at a distance of only five miles.

The horizon was still very clear. The examination was easy, and Ayrton
soon let the glass fall again, saying—

"It is not the 'Duncan'! It could not be!"

Pencroft again brought the brig within the range of the telescope, and
could see that she was of between three and four hundred tons burden,
wonderfully narrow, well-masted, admirably built, and must be a very rapid
sailer. But to what nation did she belong? That was difficult to say.

"And yet," added the sailor, "a flag is floating from her peak, but I
cannot distinguish the colors of it."

"In half an hour we shall be certain about that," answered the reporter.
"Besides, it is very evident that the intention of the captain of this
ship is to land, and, consequently, if not today, to-morrow at the latest,
we shall make his acquaintance."

"Never mind!" said Pencroft. "It is best to know whom we have to deal
with, and I shall not be sorry to recognize that fellow's colors!"

And, while thus speaking, the sailor never left the glass. The day began
to fade, and with the day the breeze fell also. The brig's ensign hung in
folds, and it became more and more difficult to observe it.

"It is not the American flag," said Pencroft from time to time, "nor the
English, the red of which could be easily seen, nor the French or German
colors, nor the white flag of Russia, nor the yellow of Spain. One would
say it was all one color. Let's see: in these seas, what do we generally
meet with? The Chilean flag?—but that is tri-color. Brazilian?—it
is green. Japanese?—it is yellow and black, while this—"

At that moment the breeze blew out the unknown flag. Ayrton seizing the
telescope which the sailor had put down, put it to his eye, and in a
hoarse voice,—

"The black flag!" he exclaimed.

And indeed the somber bunting was floating from the mast of the brig, and
they had now good reason for considering her to be a suspicious vessel!

Had the engineer, then, been right in his presentiments? Was this a pirate
vessel? Did she scour the Pacific, competing with the Malay proas which
still infest it? For what had she come to look at the shores of Lincoln
Island? Was it to them an unknown island, ready to become a magazine for
stolen cargoes? Had she come to find on the coast a sheltered port for the
winter months? Was the settlers' honest domain destined to be transformed
into an infamous refuge—the headquarters of the piracy of the
Pacific?

All these ideas instinctively presented themselves to the colonists'
imaginations. There was no doubt, besides, of the signification which must
be attached to the color of the hoisted flag. It was that of pirates! It
was that which the "Duncan" would have carried, had the convicts succeeded
in their criminal design! No time was lost before discussing it.

"My friends," said Cyrus Harding, "perhaps this vessel only wishes to
survey the coast of the island. Perhaps her crew will not land. There is a
chance of it. However that may be, we ought to do everything we can to
hide our presence here. The windmill on Prospect Heights is too easily
seen. Let Ayrton and Neb go and take down the sails. We must also conceal
the windows of Granite House with thick branches. All the fires must be
extinguished, so that nothing may betray the presence of men on the
island."

"And our vessel?" said Herbert.

"Oh," answered Pencroft, "she is sheltered in Port Balloon, and I defy any
of those rascals there to find her!"

The engineer's orders were immediately executed. Neb and Ayrton ascended
the plateau, and took the necessary precautions to conceal any indication
of a settlement. While they were thus occupied, their companions went to
the border of Jacamar Wood, and brought back a large quantity of branches
and creepers, which would at some distance appear as natural foliage, and
thus disguise the windows in the granite cliff. At the same time, the
ammunition and guns were placed ready so as to be at hand in case of an
unexpected attack.

When all these precautions had been taken,—

"My friends," said Harding, and his voice betrayed some emotion, "if the
wretches endeavor to seize Lincoln Island, we shall defend it—shall
we not?"

"Yes, Cyrus," replied the reporter, "and if necessary we will die to
defend it!"

The engineer extended his hand to his companions, who pressed it warmly.
Ayrton remained in his corner, not joining the colonists. Perhaps he, the
former convict, still felt himself unworthy to do so!

Cyrus Harding understood what was passing in Ayrton's mind, and going to
him—

"And you, Ayrton," he asked, "what will you do?"

"My duty," answered Ayrton.

He then took up his station near the window and gazed through the foliage.

It was now half-past seven. The sun had disappeared twenty minutes ago
behind Granite House. Consequently the Eastern horizon was becoming
obscured. In the meanwhile the brig continued to advance towards Union
Bay. She was now not more than two miles off, and exactly opposite the
plateau of Prospect Heights, for after having tacked off Claw Cape, she
had drifted towards the north in the current of the rising tide. One might
have said that at this distance she had already entered the vast bay, for
a straight line drawn from Claw Cape to Cape Mandible would have rested on
her starboard quarter.

Was the brig about to penetrate far into the bay? That was the first
question. When once in the bay, would she anchor there? That was the
second. Would she not content herself with only surveying the coast, and
stand out to sea again without landing her crew? They would know this in
an hour. The colonists could do nothing but wait.

Cyrus Harding had not seen the suspected vessel hoist the black flag
without deep anxiety. Was it not a direct menace against the work which he
and his companions had till now conducted so successfully? Had these
pirates—for the sailors of the brig could be nothing else—already
visited the island, since on approaching it they had hoisted their colors.
Had they formerly invaded it, so that certain unaccountable peculiarities
might be explained in this way? Did there exist in the as yet unexplored
parts some accomplice ready to enter into communication with them?

To all these questions which he mentally asked himself, Harding knew not
what to reply; but he felt that the safety of the colony could not but be
seriously threatened by the arrival of the brig.

However, he and his companions were determined to fight to the last gasp.
It would have been very important to know if the pirates were numerous and
better armed than the colonists. But how was this information to be
obtained?

Night fell. The new moon had disappeared. Profound darkness enveloped the
island and the sea. No light could pierce through the heavy piles of
clouds on the horizon. The wind had died away completely with the
twilight. Not a leaf rustled on the trees, not a ripple murmured on the
shore. Nothing could be seen of the ship, all her lights being
extinguished, and if she was still in sight of the island, her whereabouts
could not be discovered.

"Well! who knows?" said Pencroft. "Perhaps that cursed craft will stand
off during the night, and we shall see nothing of her at daybreak."

As if in reply to the sailor's observation, a bright light flashed in the
darkness, and a cannon-shot was heard.

The vessel was still there and had guns on board.

Six seconds elapsed between the flash and the report.

Therefore the brig was about a mile and a quarter from the coast.

At the same time, the chains were heard rattling through the hawse-holes.

The vessel had just anchored in sight of Granite House!

Chapter 2

There was no longer any doubt as to the pirates' intentions. They had
dropped anchor at a short distance from the island, and it was evident
that the next day by means of their boats they purposed to land on the
beach!

Cyrus Harding and his companions were ready to act, but, determined though
they were, they must not forget to be prudent. Perhaps their presence
might still be concealed in the event of the pirates contenting themselves
with landing on the shore without examining the interior of the island. It
might be, indeed, that their only intention was to obtain fresh water from
the Mercy, and it was not impossible that the bridge, thrown across a mile
and a half from the mouth, and the manufactory at the Chimneys might
escape their notice.

But why was that flag hoisted at the brig's peak? What was that shot fired
for? Pure bravado doubtless, unless it was a sign of the act of taking
possession. Harding knew now that the vessel was well armed. And what had
the colonists of Lincoln Island to reply to the pirates' guns? A few
muskets only.

"However," observed Cyrus Harding, "here we are in an impregnable
position. The enemy cannot discover the mouth of the outlet, now that it
is hidden under reeds and grass, and consequently it would be impossible
for them to penetrate into Granite House."

"Indeed," returned the sailor, "I only propose to accompany Ayrton as far
as the islet. It may be, although it is scarcely possible, that one of
these villains has landed, and in that case two men will not be too many
to hinder him from giving the alarm. I will wait for Ayrton on the islet,
and he shall go alone to the vessel, since he has proposed to do so."
These things agreed to, Ayrton made preparations for his departure. His
plan was bold, but it might succeed, thanks to the darkness of the night.
Once arrived at the vessel's side, Ayrton, holding on to the main chains,
might reconnoiter the number and perhaps overhear the intentions of the
pirates.

Ayrton and Pencroft, followed by their companions, descended to the beach.
Ayrton undressed and rubbed himself with grease, so as to suffer less from
the temperature of the water, which was still cold. He might, indeed, be
obliged to remain in it for several hours.

Pencroft and Neb, during this time, had gone to fetch the boat, moored a
few hundred feet higher up, on the bank of the Mercy, and by the time they
returned, Ayrton was ready to start. A coat was thrown over his shoulders,
and the settlers all came round him to press his hand.

Ayrton then shoved off with Pencroft in the boat.

It was half-past ten in the evening when the two adventurers disappeared
in the darkness. Their companions returned to wait at the Chimneys.

The channel was easily traversed, and the boat touched the opposite shore
of the islet. This was not done without precaution, for fear lest the
pirates might be roaming about there. But after a careful survey, it was
evident that the islet was deserted. Ayrton then, followed by Pencroft,
crossed it with a rapid step, scaring the birds nestled in the holes of
the rocks; then, without hesitating, he plunged into the sea, and swam
noiselessly in the direction of the ship, in which a few lights had
recently appeared, showing her exact situation. As to Pencroft, he
crouched down in a cleft of the rock, and awaited the return of his
companion.

In the meanwhile, Ayrton, swimming with a vigorous stroke, glided through
the sheet of water without producing the slightest ripple. His head just
emerged above it and his eyes were fixed on the dark hull of the brig,
from which the lights were reflected in the water. He thought only of the
duty which he had promised to accomplish, and nothing of the danger which
he ran, not only on board the ship, but in the sea, often frequented by
sharks. The current bore him along and he rapidly receded from the shore.

Half an hour afterwards, Ayrton, without having been either seen or heard,
arrived at the ship and caught hold of the main-chains. He took breath,
then, hoisting himself up, he managed to reach the extremity of the
cutwater. There were drying several pairs of sailors' trousers. He put on
a pair. Then settling himself firmly, he listened. They were not sleeping
on board the brig. On the contrary, they were talking, singing, laughing.
And these were the sentences, accompanied with oaths, which principally
struck Ayrton:—

"Our brig is a famous acquisition."

"She sails well, and merits her name of the 'Speedy.'"

"She would show all the navy of Norfolk a clean pair of heels."

"Hurrah for her captain!"

"Hurrah for Bob Harvey!"

What Ayrton felt when he overheard this fragment of conversation may be
understood when it is known that in this Bob Harvey he recognized one of
his old Australian companions, a daring sailor, who had continued his
criminal career. Bob Harvey had seized, on the shores of Norfolk Island
this brig, which was loaded with arms, ammunition, utensils, and tools of
all sorts, destined for one of the Sandwich Islands. All his gang had gone
on board, and pirates after having been convicts, these wretches, more
ferocious than the Malays themselves, scoured the Pacific, destroying
vessels, and massacring their crews.

The convicts spoke loudly, they recounted their deeds, drinking deeply at
the same time, and this is what Ayrton gathered. The actual crew of the
"Speedy" was composed solely of English prisoners, escaped from Norfolk
Island.

Here it may be well to explain what this island was. In 29deg 2' south
latitude, and 165deg 42' east longitude, to the east of Australia, is
found a little island, six miles in circumference, overlooked by Mount
Pitt, which rises to a height of 1,100 feet above the level of the sea.
This is Norfolk Island, once the seat of an establishment in which were
lodged the most intractable convicts from the English penitentiaries. They
numbered 500, under an iron discipline, threatened with terrible
punishments, and were guarded by 150 soldiers, and 150 employed under the
orders of the governor. It would be difficult to imagine a collection of
greater ruffians. Sometimes,—although very rarely,—notwithstanding
the extreme surveillance of which they were the object, many managed to
escape, and seizing vessels which they surprised, they infested the
Polynesian Archipelagoes.

Thus had Bob Harvey and his companions done. Thus had Ayrton formerly
wished to do. Bob Harvey had seized the brig "Speedy," anchored in sight
of Norfolk Island; the crew had been massacred; and for a year this ship
had scoured the Pacific, under the command of Harvey, now a pirate, and
well known to Ayrton!

The convicts were, for the most part, assembled under the poop; but a few,
stretched on the deck, were talking loudly.

The conversation still continued amid shouts and libations. Ayrton learned
that chance alone had brought the "Speedy" in sight of Lincoln Island; Bob
Harvey had never yet set foot on it; but, as Cyrus Harding had
conjectured, finding this unknown land in his course, its position being
marked on no chart, he had formed the project of visiting it, and, if he
found it suitable, of making it the brig's headquarters.

As to the black flag hoisted at the "Speedy's" peak, and the gun which had
been fired, in imitation of men-of-war when they lower their colors, it
was pure piratical bravado. It was in no way a signal, and no
communication yet existed between the convicts and Lincoln Island.

The settlers' domain was now menaced with terrible danger. Evidently the
island, with its water, its harbor, its resources of all kinds so
increased in value by the colonists, and the concealment afforded by
Granite House, could not but be convenient for the convicts; in their
hands it would become an excellent place of refuge, and, being unknown, it
would assure them, for a long time perhaps, impunity and security.
Evidently, also, the lives of the settlers would not be respected, and Bob
Harvey and his accomplices' first care would be to massacre them without
mercy. Harding and his companions had, therefore, not even the choice of
flying and hiding themselves in the island, since the convicts intended to
reside there, and since, in the event of the "Speedy" departing on an
expedition, it was probable that some of the crew would remain on shore,
so as to settle themselves there. Therefore, it would be necessary to
fight, to destroy every one of these scoundrels, unworthy of pity, and
against whom any means would be right. So thought Ayrton, and he well knew
that Cyrus Harding would be of his way of thinking.

But was resistance and, in the last place, victory possible? That would
depend on the equipment of the brig, and the number of men which she
carried.

This Ayrton resolved to learn at any cost, and as an hour after his
arrival the vociferations had begun to die away, and as a large number of
the convicts were already buried in a drunken sleep, Ayrton did not
hesitate to venture onto the "Speedy's" deck, which the extinguished
lanterns now left in total darkness. He hoisted himself onto the cutwater,
and by the bowsprit arrived at the forecastle. Then, gliding among the
convicts stretched here and there, he made the round of the ship, and
found that the "Speedy" carried four guns, which would throw shot of from
eight to ten pounds in weight. He found also, on touching them that these
guns were breech-loaders. They were therefore, of modern make, easily
used, and of terrible effect.

As to the men lying on the deck, they were about ten in number, but it was
to be supposed that more were sleeping down below. Besides, by listening
to them, Ayrton had understood that there were fifty on board. That was a
large number for the six settlers of Lincoln Island to contend with! But
now, thanks to Ayrton's devotion, Cyrus Harding would not be surprised, he
would know the strength of his adversaries, and would make his
arrangements accordingly.

There was nothing more for Ayrton to do but to return, and render to his
companions an account of the mission with which he had charged himself,
and he prepared to regain the bows of the brig, so that he might let
himself down into the water. But to this man, whose wish was, as he had
said, to do more than his duty, there came an heroic thought. This was to
sacrifice his own life, but save the island and the colonists. Cyrus
Harding evidently could not resist fifty ruffians, all well armed, who,
either by penetrating by main force into Granite House, or by starving out
the besieged, could obtain from them what they wanted. And then he thought
of his preservers—those who had made him again a man, and an honest
mm, those to whom he owed all—murdered without pity, their works
destroyed, their island turned into a pirates' den! He said to himself
that he, Ayrton, was the principal cause of so many disasters, since his
old companion, Bob Harvey, had but realized his own plans, and a feeling
of horror took possession of him. Then he was seized with an irresistible
desire to blow up the brig and with her, all whom she had on board. He
would perish in the explosion, but he would have done his duty.

Ayrton did not hesitate. To reach the powder-room, which is always
situated in the after-part of a vessel, was easy. There would be no want
of powder in a vessel which followed such a trade, and a spark would be
enough to destroy it in an instant.

Ayrton stole carefully along the between-decks, strewn with numerous
sleepers, overcome more by drunkenness than sleep. A lantern was lighted
at the foot of the mainmast, round which was hung a gun-rack, furnished
with weapons of all sorts.

Ayrton took a revolver from the rack, and assured himself that it was
loaded and primed. Nothing more was needed to accomplish the work of
destruction. He then glided towards the stern, so as to arrive under the
brig's poop at the powder-magazine.

It was difficult to proceed along the dimly lighted deck without stumbling
over some half-sleeping convict, who retorted by oaths and kicks. Ayrton
was, therefore, more than once obliged to halt. But at last he arrived at
the partition dividing the aftercabin, and found the door opening into the
magazine itself.

Ayrton, compelled to force it open, set to work. It was a difficult
operation to perform without noise, for he had to break a padlock. But
under his vigorous hand, the padlock broke, and the door was open.

At that moment a hand was laid on Ayrton's shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" asked a tall man, in a harsh voice, who,
standing in the shadow, quickly threw the light of a lantern in Ayrton's
face.

Ayrton drew back. In the rapid flash of the lantern, he had recognized his
former accomplice, Bob Harvey, who could not have known him, as he must
have thought Ayrton long since dead.

"What are you doing here?" again said Bob Harvey, seizing Ayrton by the
waistband.

But Ayrton, without replying, wrenched himself from his grasp and
attempted to rush into the magazine. A shot fired into the midst of the
powder-casks, and all would be over!

"Help, lads!" shouted Bob Harvey.

At his shout two or three pirates awoke, jumped up, and, rushing on
Ayrton, endeavored to throw him down. He soon extricated himself from
their grasp. He fired his revolver, and two of the convicts fell, but a
blow from a knife which he could not ward off made a gash in his shoulder.

Ayrton perceived that he could no longer hope to carry out his project.
Bob Harvey had reclosed the door of the powder-magazine, and a movement on
the deck indicated a general awakening of the pirates. Ayrton must reserve
himself to fight at the side of Cyrus Harding. There was nothing for him
but flight!

But was flight still possible? It was doubtful, yet Ayrton resolved to
dare everything in order to rejoin his companions.

Four barrels of the revolver were still undischarged. Two were fired—one,
aimed at Bob Harvey, did not wound him, or at any rate only slightly, and
Ayrton, profiting by the momentary retreat of his adversaries, rushed
towards the companion-ladder to gain the deck. Passing before the lantern,
he smashed it with a blow from the butt of his revolver. A profound
darkness ensued, which favored his flight. Two or three pirates, awakened
by the noise, were descending the ladder at the same moment.

A fifth shot from Ayrton laid one low, and the others drew back, not
understanding what was going on. Ayrton was on deck in two bounds, and
three seconds later, having discharged his last barrel in the face of a
pirate who was about to seize him by the throat, he leaped over the
bulwarks into the sea.

Ayrton had not made six strokes before shots were splashing around him
like hail.

What were Pencroft's feelings, sheltered under a rock on the islet! What
were those of Harding, the reporter, Herbert, and Neb, crouched in the
Chimneys, when they heard the reports on board the brig! They rushed out
on to the beach, and, their guns shouldered, they stood ready to repel any
attack.

They had no doubt about it themselves! Ayrton, surprised by the pirates,
had been murdered, and, perhaps, the wretches would profit by the night to
make a descent on the island!

Half an hour was passed in terrible anxiety. The firing had ceased, and
yet neither Ayrton nor Pencroft had reappeared. Was the islet invaded?
Ought they not to fly to the help of Ayrton and Pencroft? But how? The
tide being high at that time, rendered the channel impassable. The boat
was not there! We may imagine the horrible anxiety which took possession
of Harding and his companions!

At last, towards half-past twelve, a boat, carrying two men, touched the
beach. It was Ayrton, slightly wounded in the shoulder, and Pencroft, safe
and sound, whom their friends received with open arms.

All immediately took refuge in the Chimneys. There Ayrton recounted all
that had passed, even to his plan for blowing up the brig, which he had
attempted to put into execution.

All hands were extended to Ayrton, who did not conceal from them that
their situation was serious. The pirates had been alarmed. They knew that
Lincoln Island was inhabited. They would land upon it in numbers and well
armed. They would respect nothing. Should the settlers fall into their
hands, they must expect no mercy!

"Well, we shall know how to die!" said the reporter.

"Let us go in and watch," answered the engineer.

"Have we any chance of escape, captain?" asked the sailor.

"Yes, Pencroft."

"Hum! six against fifty!"

"Yes! six! without counting—"

"Who?" asked Pencroft.

Cyrus did not reply, but pointed upwards.

Chapter 3

The night passed without incident. The colonists were on the qui vive, and
did not leave their post at the Chimneys. The pirates, on their side, did
not appear to have made any attempt to land. Since the last shots fired at
Ayrton not a report, not even a sound, had betrayed the presence of the
brig in the neighborhood of the island. It might have been fancied that
she had weighed anchor, thinking that she had to deal with her match, and
had left the coast.

But it was no such thing, and when day began to dawn the settlers could
see a confused mass through the morning mist. It was the "Speedy."

"These, my friends," said the engineer, "are the arrangements which appear
to me best to make before the fog completely clears away. It hides us from
the eyes of the pirates, and we can act without attracting their
attention. The most important thing is, that the convicts should believe
that the inhabitants of the island are numerous, and consequently capable
of resisting them. I therefore propose that we divide into three parties.
The first of which shall be posted at the Chimneys, the second at the
mouth of the Mercy. As to the third, I think it would be best to place it
on the islet, so as to prevent, or at all events delay, any attempt at
landing. We have the use of two rifles and four muskets. Each of us will
be armed, and, as we are amply provided with powder and shot, we need not
spare our fire. We have nothing to fear from the muskets nor even from the
guns of the brig. What can they do against these rocks? And, as we shall
not fire from the windows of Granite House, the pirates will not think of
causing irreparable damage by throwing shell against it. What is to be
feared is, the necessity of meeting hand-to-hand, since the convicts have
numbers on their side. We must therefore try to prevent them from landing,
but without discovering ourselves. Therefore, do not economize the
ammunition. Fire often, but with a sure aim. We have each eight or ten
enemies to kill, and they must be killed!"

Cyrus Harding had clearly represented their situation, although he spoke
in the calmest voice, as if it was a question of directing a piece of work
and not ordering a battle. His companions approved these arrangements
without even uttering a word. There was nothing more to be done but for
each to take his place before the fog should be completely dissipated. Neb
and Pencroft immediately ascended to Granite House and brought back a
sufficient quantity of ammunition. Gideon Spilett and Ayrton, both very
good marksmen, were armed with the two rifles, which carried nearly a
mile. The four other muskets were divided among Harding, Neb, Pencroft,
and Herbert.

The posts were arranged in the following manner:—

Cyrus Harding and Herbert remained in ambush at the Chimneys, thus
commanding the shore to the foot of Granite House.

Gideon Spilett and Neb crouched among the rocks at the mouth of the Mercy,
from which the drawbridges had been raised, so as to prevent any one from
crossing in a boat or landing on the opposite shore.

As to Ayrton and Pencroft, they shoved off in the boat, and prepared to
cross the channel and to take up two separate stations on the islet. In
this way, shots being fired from four different points at once, the
convicts would be led to believe that the island was both largely peopled
and strongly defended.

In the event of a landing being effected without their having been able to
prevent it, and also if they saw that they were on the point of being cut
off by the brig's boat, Ayrton and Pencroft were to return in their boat
to the shore and proceed towards the threatened spot.

Before starting to occupy their posts, the colonists for the last time
wrung each other's hands.

Pencroft succeeded in controlling himself sufficiently to suppress his
emotion when he embraced Herbert, his boy! and then they separated.

In a few moments Harding and Herbert on one side, the reporter and Neb on
the other, had disappeared behind the rocks, and five minutes later Ayrton
and Pencroft, having without difficulty crossed the channel, disembarked
on the islet and concealed themselves in the clefts of its eastern shore.

None of them could have been seen, for they themselves could scarcely
distinguish the brig in the fog.

It was half-past six in the morning.

Soon the fog began to clear away, and the topmasts of the brig issued from
the vapor. For some minutes great masses rolled over the surface of the
sea, then a breeze sprang up, which rapidly dispelled the mist.

The "Speedy" now appeared in full view, with a spring on her cable, her
head to the north, presenting her larboard side to the island. Just as
Harding had calculated, she was not more than a mile and a quarter from
the coast.

The sinister black flag floated from the peak.

The engineer, with his telescope, could see that the four guns on board
were pointed at the island. They were evidently ready to fire at a
moment's notice.

In the meanwhile the "Speedy" remained silent. About thirty pirates could
be seen moving on the deck. A few more on the poop; two others posted in
the shrouds, and armed with spyglasses, were attentively surveying the
island.

Certainly, Bob Harvey and his crew would not be able easily to give an
account of what had happened during the night on board the brig. Had this
half-naked man, who had forced the door of the powder-magazine, and with
whom they had struggled, who had six times discharged his revolver at
them, who had killed one and wounded two others, escaped their shot? Had
he been able to swim to shore? Whence did he come? What had been his
object? Had his design really been to blow up the brig, as Bob Harvey had
thought? All this must be confused enough to the convicts' minds. But what
they could no longer doubt was that the unknown island before which the
"Speedy" had cast anchor was inhabited, and that there was, perhaps, a
numerous colony ready to defend it. And yet no one was to be seen, neither
on the shore, nor on the heights. The beach appeared to be absolutely
deserted. At any rate, there was no trace of dwellings. Had the
inhabitants fled into the interior? Thus probably the pirate captain
reasoned, and doubtless, like a prudent man, he wished to reconnoiter the
locality before he allowed his men to venture there.

During an hour and a half, no indication of attack or landing could be
observed on board the brig. Evidently Bob Harvey was hesitating. Even with
his strongest telescopes he could not have perceived one of the settlers
crouched among the rocks. It was not even probable that his attention had
been awakened by the screen of green branches and creepers hiding the
windows of Granite House, and showing rather conspicuously on the bare
rock. Indeed, how could he imagine that a dwelling was hollowed out, at
that height, in the solid granite? From Claw Cape to the Mandible Capes,
in all the extent of Union Bay, there was nothing to lead him to suppose
that the island was or could be inhabited.

At eight o'clock, however, the colonists observed a movement on board the
"Speedy." A boat was lowered, and seven men jumped into her. They were
armed with muskets; one took the yoke-lines, four others the oars, and the
two others, kneeling in the bows, ready to fire, reconnoitered the island.
Their object was no doubt to make an examination but not to land, for in
the latter case they would have come in larger numbers. The pirates from
their look-out could have seen that the coast was sheltered by an islet,
separated from it by a channel half a mile in width. However, it was soon
evident to Cyrus Harding, on observing the direction followed by the boat,
that they would not attempt to penetrate into the channel, but would land
on the islet.

Pencroft and Ayrton, each hidden in a narrow cleft of the rock, saw them
coming directly towards them, and waited till they were within range.

The boat advanced with extreme caution. The oars only dipped into the
water at long intervals. It could now be seen that one of the convicts
held a lead-line in his hand, and that he wished to fathom the depth of
the channel hollowed out by the current of the Mercy. This showed that it
was Bob Harvey's intention to bring his brig as near as possible to the
coast. About thirty pirates, scattered in the rigging, followed every
movement of the boat, and took the bearings of certain landmarks which
would allow them to approach without danger. The boat was not more than
two cables-lengths off the islet when she stopped. The man at the tiller
stood up and looked for the best place at which to land.

At that moment two shots were heard. Smoke curled up from among the rocks
of the islet. The man at the helm and the man with the lead-line fell
backwards into the boat. Ayrton's and Pencroft's balls had struck them
both at the same moment.

Almost immediately a louder report was heard, a cloud of smoke issued from
the brig's side, and a ball, striking the summit of the rock which
sheltered Ayrton and Pencroft, made it fly in splinters, but the two
marksmen remained unhurt.

Horrible imprecations burst from the boat, which immediately continued its
way. The man who had been at the tiller was replaced by one of his
comrades, and the oars were rapidly plunged into the water. However,
instead of returning on board as might have been expected, the boat
coasted along the islet, so as to round its southern point. The pirates
pulled vigorously at their oars that they might get out of range of the
bullets.

They advanced to within five cables-lengths of that part of the shore
terminated by Flotsam Point, and after having rounded it in a semicircular
line, still protected by the brig's guns, they proceeded towards the mouth
of the Mercy.

Their evident intention was to penetrate into the channel, and cut off the
colonists posted on the islet, in such a way, that whatever their number
might be, being placed between the fire from the boat and the fire from
the brig, they would find themselves in a very disadvantageous position.

A quarter of an hour passed while the boat advanced in this direction.
Absolute silence, perfect calm reigned in the air and on the water.

Pencroft and Ayrton, although they knew they ran the risk of being cut
off, had not left their post, both that they did not wish to show
themselves as yet to their assailants, and expose themselves to the
"Speedy's" guns, and that they relied on Neb and Gideon Spilett, watching
at the mouth of the river, and on Cyrus Harding and Herbert, in ambush
among the rocks at the Chimneys.

Twenty minutes after the first shots were fired, the boat was less than
two cables-lengths off the Mercy. As the tide was beginning to rise with
its accustomed violence, caused by the narrowness of the straits, the
pirates were drawn towards the river, and it was only by dint of hard
rowing that they were able to keep in the middle of the channel. But, as
they were passing within good range of the mouth of the Mercy, two balls
saluted them, and two more of their number were laid in the bottom of the
boat. Neb and Spilett had not missed their aim.

The brig immediately sent a second ball on the post betrayed by the smoke,
but without any other result than that of splintering the rock.

The boat now contained only three able men. Carried on by the current, it
shot through the channel with the rapidity of an arrow, passed before
Harding and Herbert, who, not thinking it within range, withheld their
fire, then, rounding the northern point of the islet with the two
remaining oars, they pulled towards the brig.

Hitherto the settlers had nothing to complain of. Their adversaries had
certainly had the worst of it. The latter already counted four men
seriously wounded if not dead; they, on the contrary, unwounded, had not
missed a shot. If the pirates continued to attack them in this way, if
they renewed their attempt to land by means of a boat, they could be
destroyed one by one.

It was now seen how advantageous the engineer's arrangements had been. The
pirates would think that they had to deal with numerous and well-armed
adversaries, whom they could not easily get the better of.

Half an hour passed before the boat, having to pull against the current,
could get alongside the "Speedy." Frightful cries were heard when they
returned on board with the wounded, and two or three guns were fired with
no results.

But now about a dozen other convicts, maddened with rage, and possibly by
the effect of the evening's potations, threw themselves into the boat. A
second boat was also lowered, in which eight men took their places, and
while the first pulled straight for the islet, to dislodge the colonists
from thence the second maneuvered so as to force the entrance of the
Mercy.

The situation was evidently becoming very dangerous for Pencroft and
Ayrton, and they saw that they must regain the mainland.

However, they waited till the first boat was within range, when two
well-directed balls threw its crew into disorder. Then, Pencroft and
Ayrton, abandoning their posts, under fire from the dozen muskets, ran
across the islet at full speed, jumped into their boat, crossed the
channel at the moment the second boat reached the southern end, and ran to
hide themselves in the Chimneys.

They had scarcely rejoined Cyrus Harding and Herbert, before the islet was
overrun with pirates in every direction. Almost at the same moment, fresh
reports resounded from the Mercy station, to which the second boat was
rapidly approaching. Two, out of the eight men who manned her, were
mortally wounded by Gideon Spilett and Neb, and the boat herself, carried
irresistibly onto the reefs, was stove in at the mouth of the Mercy. But
the six survivors, holding their muskets above their heads to preserve
them from contact with the water, managed to land on the right bank of the
river. Then, finding they were exposed to the fire of the ambush there,
they fled in the direction of Flotsam Point, out of range of the balls.

The actual situation was this: on the islet were a dozen convicts, of whom
some were no doubt wounded, but who had still a boat at their disposal; on
the island were six, but who could not by any possibility reach Granite
House, as they could not cross the river, all the bridges being raised.

"Hallo," exclaimed Pencroft as he rushed into the Chimneys, "hallo,
captain! What do you think of it, now?"

"I think," answered the engineer, "that the combat will now take a new
form, for it cannot be supposed that the convicts will be so foolish as to
remain in a position so unfavorable for them!"

"They won't cross the channel," said the sailor. "Ayrton and Mr. Spilett's
rifles are there to prevent them. You know that they carry more than a
mile!"

"No doubt," replied Herbert; "but what can two rifles do against the
brig's guns?"

"Well, the brig isn't in the channel yet, I fancy!" said Pencroft.

"But suppose she does come there?" said Harding.

"That's impossible, for she would risk running aground and being lost!"

"It is possible," said Ayrton. "The convicts might profit by the high tide
to enter the channel, with the risk of grounding at low tide, it is true;
but then, under the fire from her guns, our posts would be no longer
tenable."

"Confound them!" exclaimed Pencroft, "it really seems as if the
blackguards were preparing to weigh anchor."

"Perhaps we shall be obliged to take refuge in Granite House!" observed
Herbert.

"We must wait!" answered Cyrus Harding.

"But Mr. Spilett and Neb?" said Pencroft.

"They will know when it is best to rejoin us. Be ready, Ayrton. It is
yours and Spilett's rifles which must speak now."

It was only too true. The "Speedy" was beginning to weigh her anchor, and
her intention was evidently to approach the islet. The tide would be
rising for an hour and a half, and the ebb current being already weakened,
it would be easy for the brig to advance. But as to entering the channel,
Pencroft, contrary to Ayrton's opinion, could not believe that she would
dare to attempt it.

In the meanwhile, the pirates who occupied the islet had gradually
advanced to the opposite shore, and were now only separated from the
mainland by the channel.

Being armed with muskets alone, they could do no harm to the settlers, in
ambush at the Chimneys and the mouth of the Mercy; but, not knowing the
latter to be supplied with long-range rifles, they on their side did not
believe themselves to be exposed. Quite uncovered, therefore, they
surveyed the islet, and examined the shore.

Their illusion was of short duration. Ayrton's and Gideon Spilett's rifles
then spoke, and no doubt imparted some very disagreeable intelligence to
two of the convicts, for they fell backwards.

Then there was a general helter-skelter. The ten others, not even stopping
to pick up their dead or wounded companions, fled to the other side of the
islet, tumbled into the boat which had brought them, and pulled away with
all their strength.

"Eight less!" exclaimed Pencroft. "Really, one would have thought that Mr.
Spilett and Ayrton had given the word to fire together!"

"Gentlemen," said Ayrton, as he reloaded his gun, "this is becoming more
serious. The brig is making sail!"

"The anchor is weighed!" exclaimed Pencroft.

"Yes, and she is already moving."

In fact, they could distinctly hear the creaking of the windlass. The
"Speedy" was at first held by her anchor; then, when that had been raised,
she began to drift towards the shore. The wind was blowing from the sea;
the jib and the foretopsail were hoisted, and the vessel gradually
approached the island.

From the two posts of the Mercy and the Chimneys they watched her without
giving a sign of life, but not without some emotion. What could be more
terrible for the colonists than to be exposed, at a short distance, to the
brig's guns, without being able to reply with any effect? How could they
then prevent the pirates from landing?

Cyrus Harding felt this strongly, and he asked himself what it would be
possible to do. Before long, he would be called upon for his
determination. But what was it to be? To shut themselves up in Granite
House, to be besieged there, to remain there for weeks, for months even,
since they had an abundance of provisions? So far good! But after that?
The pirates would not the less be masters of the island, which they would
ravage at their pleasure, and in time, they would end by having their
revenge on the prisoners in Granite House.

However, one chance yet remained; it was that Bob Harvey, after all, would
not venture his ship into the channel, and that he would keep outside the
islet. He would be still separated from the coast by half a mile, and at
that distance his shot could not be very destructive.

"Never!" repeated Pencroft, "Bob Harvey will never, if he is a good
seaman, enter that channel! He knows well that it would risk the brig, if
the sea got up ever so little! And what would become of him without his
vessel?"

In the meanwhile the brig approached the islet, and it could be seen that
she was endeavoring to make the lower end. The breeze was light, and as
the current had then lost much of its force, Bob Harvey had absolute
command over his vessel.

The route previously followed by the boats had allowed her to reconnoiter
the channel, and she boldly entered it.

The pirate's design was now only too evident; he wished to bring her
broadside to bear on the Chimneys and from there to reply with shell and
ball to the shot which had till then decimated her crew.

Soon the "Speedy" reached the point of the islet; she rounded it with
ease; the mainsail was braced up, and the brig hugging the wind, stood
across the mouth of the Mercy.

"The scoundrels! they are coming!" said Pencroft.

At that moment, Cyrus Harding, Ayrton, the sailor, and Herbert, were
rejoined by Neb and Gideon Spilett.

The reporter and his companion had judged it best to abandon the post at
the Mercy, from which they could do nothing against the ship, and they had
acted wisely. It was better that the colonists should be together at the
moment when they were about to engage in a decisive action. Gideon Spilett
and Neb had arrived by dodging behind the rocks, though not without
attracting a shower of bullets, which had not, however, reached them.

"Spilett! Neb!" cried the engineer. "You are not wounded?"

"No," answered the reporter, "a few bruises only from the ricochet! But
that cursed brig has entered the channel!"

"Yes," replied Pencroft, "and in ten minutes she will have anchored before
Granite House!"

"Have you formed any plan, Cyrus?" asked the reporter.

"We must take refuge in Granite House while there is still time, and the
convicts cannot see us."

"Would you not wish, captain, that Ayrton and I should remain here?" asked
the sailor.

"What would be the use of that, Pencroft?" replied Harding. "No. We will
not separate!"

There was not a moment to be lost. The colonists left the Chimneys. A bend
of the cliff prevented them from being seen by those in the brig, but two
or three reports, and the crash of bullets on the rock, told them that the
"Speedy" was at no great distance.

To spring into the lift, hoist themselves up to the door of Granite House,
where Top and Jup had been shut up since the evening before, to rush into
the large room, was the work of a minute only.

It was quite time, for the settlers, through the branches, could see the
"Speedy," surrounded with smoke, gliding up the channel. The firing was
incessant, and shot from the four guns struck blindly, both on the Mercy
post, although it was not occupied, and on the Chimneys. The rocks were
splintered, and cheers accompanied each discharge. However, they were
hoping that Granite House would be spared, thanks to Harding's precaution
of concealing the windows when a shot, piercing the door, penetrated into
the passage.

"We are discovered!" exclaimed Pencroft.

The colonists had not, perhaps, been seen, but it was certain that Bob
Harvey had thought proper to send a ball through the suspected foliage
which concealed that part of the cliff. Soon he redoubled his attack, when
another ball having torn away the leafy screen, disclosed a gaping
aperture in the granite.

The colonists' situation was desperate. Their retreat was discovered. They
could not oppose any obstacle to these missiles, nor protect the stone,
which flew in splinters around them. There was nothing to be done but to
take refuge in the upper passage of Granite House, and leave their
dwelling to be devastated, when a deep roar was heard, followed by
frightful cries!

Cyrus Harding and his companions rushed to one of the windows—

The brig, irresistibly raised on a sort of water-spout, had just split in
two, and in less than ten seconds she was swallowed up with all her
criminal crew!

Chapter 4

"She has blown up!" cried Herbert.

"Yes! blown up, just as if Ayrton had set fire to the powder!" returned
Pencroft, throwing himself into the lift together with Neb and the lad.

"But what has happened?" asked Gideon Spilett, quite stunned by this
unexpected catastrophe.

"Oh! this time, we shall know—" answered the engineer quickly.

"What shall we know?—"

"Later! later! Come, Spilett. The main point is that these pirates have
been exterminated!"

And Cyrus Harding, hurrying away the reporter and Ayrton, joined Pencroft,
Neb, and Herbert on the beach.

Nothing could be seen of the brig, not even her masts. After having been
raised by the water-spout, she had fallen on her side, and had sunk in
that position, doubtless in consequence of some enormous leak. But as in
that place the channel was not more than twenty feet in depth, it was
certain that the sides of the submerged brig would reappear at low water.

A few things from the wreck floated on the surface of the water, a raft
could be seen consisting of spare spars, coops of poultry with their
occupants still living, boxes and barrels, which gradually came to the
surface, after having escaped through the hatchways, but no pieces of the
wreck appeared, neither planks from the deck, nor timber from the hull,—which
rendered the sudden disappearance of the "Speedy" perfectly inexplicable.

However, the two masts, which had been broken and escaped from the shrouds
and stays came up, and with their sails, some furled and the others
spread. But it was not necessary to wait for the tide to bring up these
riches, and Ayrton and Pencroft jumped into the boat with the intention of
towing the pieces of wreck either to the beach or to the islet. But just
as they were shoving off, an observation from Gideon Spilett arrested
them.

"What about those six convicts who disembarked on the right bank of the
Mercy?" said he.

In fact, it would not do to forget that the six men whose boat had gone to
pieces on the rocks had landed at Flotsam Point.

They looked in that direction. None of the fugitives were visible. It was
probable that, having seen their vessel engulfed in the channel, they had
fled into the interior of the island.

"We will deal with them later," said Harding. "As they are armed, they
will still be dangerous; but as it is six against six, the chances are
equal. To the most pressing business first."

Ayrton and Pencroft pulled vigorously towards the wreck.

The sea was calm and the tide very high, as there had been a new moon but
two days before. A whole hour at least would elapse before the hull of the
brig could emerge from the water of the channel.

Ayrton and Pencroft were able to fasten the masts and spars by means of
ropes, the ends of which were carried to the beach. There, by the united
efforts of the settlers the pieces of wreck were hauled up. Then the boat
picked up all that was floating, coops, barrels, and boxes, which were
immediately carried to the Chimneys.

Several bodies floated also. Among them, Ayrton recognized that of Bob
Harvey, which he pointed out to his companion, saying with some emotion,—

"That is what I have been, Pencroft."

"But what you are no longer, brave Ayrton!" returned the sailor warmly.

It was singular enough that so few bodies floated. Only five or six were
counted, which were already being carried by the current towards the open
sea. Very probably the convicts had not had time to escape, and the ship
lying over on her side, the greater number of them had remained below. Now
the current, by carrying the bodies of these miserable men out to sea,
would spare the colonists the sad task of burying them in some corner of
their island.

For two hours, Cyrus Harding and his companions were solely occupied in
hauling up the spars on to the sand, and then in spreading the sails which
were perfectly uninjured, to dry. They spoke little, for they were
absorbed in their work, but what thoughts occupied their minds!

The possession of this brig, or rather all that she contained, was a
perfect mine of wealth. In fact, a ship is like a little world in
miniature, and the stores of the colony would be increased by a large
number of useful articles. It would be, on a large scale, equivalent to
the chest found at Flotsam Point.

"And besides," thought Pencroft, "why should it be impossible to refloat
the brig? If she has only a leak, that may be stopped up; a vessel from
three to four hundred tons, why she is a regular ship compared to our
'Bonadventure'! And we could go a long distance in her! We could go
anywhere we liked! Captain Harding, Ayrton and I must examine her! She
would be well worth the trouble!"

In fact, if the brig was still fit to navigate, the colonists' chances of
returning to their native land were singularly increased. But, to decide
this important question, it was necessary to wait until the tide was quite
low, so that every part of the brig's hull might be examined.

When their treasures had been safely conveyed on shore, Harding and his
companions agreed to devote some minutes to breakfast. They were almost
famished; fortunately, the larder was not far off, and Neb was noted for
being an expeditious cook. They breakfasted, therefore, near the Chimneys,
and during their repast, as may be supposed, nothing was talked of but the
event which had so miraculously saved the colony.

"Miraculous is the word," repeated Pencroft, "for it must be acknowledged
that those rascals blew up just at the right moment! Granite House was
beginning to be uncomfortable as a habitation!"

"And can you guess, Pencroft," asked the reporter, "how it happened, or
what can have occasioned the explosion?"

"Oh! Mr. Spilett, nothing is more simple," answered Pencroft. "A convict
vessel is not disciplined like a man-of-war! Convicts are not sailors. Of
course the powder-magazine was open, and as they were firing incessantly,
some careless or clumsy fellow just blew up the vessel!"

"Captain Harding," said Herbert, "what astonishes me is that the explosion
has not produced more effect. The report was not loud, and besides there
are so few planks and timbers torn out. It seems as if the ship had rather
foundered than blown up."

"Does that astonish you, my boy?" asked the engineer.

"Yes, captain."

"And it astonishes me also, Herbert," replied he, "but when we visit the
hull of the brig, we shall no doubt find the explanation of the matter."

"Why, captain," said Pencroft, "you don't suppose that the 'Speedy' simply
foundered like a ship which has struck on a rock?"

"Why not," observed Neb, "if there are rocks in the channel?"

"Nonsense, Neb," answered Pencroft, "you did not look at the right moment.
An instant before she sank, the brig, as I saw perfectly well, rose on an
enormous wave, and fell back on her larboard side. Now, if she had only
struck, she would have sunk quietly and gone to the bottom like an honest
vessel."

"It was just because she was not an honest vessel!" returned Neb.

"Well, we shall soon see, Pencroft," said the engineer.

"We shall soon see," rejoined the sailor, "but I would wager my head there
are no rocks in the channel. Look here, captain, to speak candidly, do you
mean to say that there is anything marvelous in the occurrence?"

Cyrus Harding did not answer.

"At any rate," said Gideon Spilett, "whether rock or explosion, you will
agree, Pencroft, that it occurred just in the nick of time!"

"Yes! yes!" replied the sailor, "but that is not the question. I ask
Captain Harding if he sees anything supernatural in all this."

"I cannot say, Pencroft," said the engineer. "That is all the answer I can
make."

A reply which did not satisfy Pencroft at all. He stuck to "an explosion,"
and did not wish to give it up. He would never consent to admit that in
that channel, with its fine sandy bed, just like the beach, which he had
often crossed at low water, there could be an unknown rock.

And besides, at the time the brig foundered, it was high water, that is to
say, there was enough water to carry the vessel clear over any rocks which
would not be uncovered at low tide. Therefore, there could not have been a
collision. Therefore, the vessel had not struck. So she had blown up.

And it must be confessed that the sailor's arguments were reasonable.

Towards half-past one, the colonists embarked in the boat to visit the
wreck. It was to be regretted that the brig's two boats had not been
saved; but one, as has been said, had gone to pieces at the mouth of the
Mercy, and was absolutely useless; the other had disappeared when the brig
went down, and had not again been seen, having doubtless been crushed.

The hull of the "Speedy" was just beginning to issue from the water. The
brig was lying right over on her side, for her masts being broken, pressed
down by the weight of the ballast displaced by the shock, the keel was
visible along her whole length. She had been regularly turned over by the
inexplicable but frightful submarine action, which had been at the same
time manifested by an enormous water-spout.

The settlers rowed round the hull, and in proportion as the tide went
down, they could ascertain, if not the cause which had occasioned the
catastrophe, at least the effect produced.

Towards the bows, on both sides of the keel, seven or eight feet from the
beginning of the stem, the sides of the brig were frightfully torn. Over a
length of at least twenty feet there opened two large leaks, which would
be impossible to stop up. Not only had the copper sheathing and the planks
disappeared, reduced, no doubt, to powder, but also the ribs, the iron
bolts, and treenails which united them. From the entire length of the hull
to the stern the false keel had been separated with an unaccountable
violence, and the keel itself, torn from the carline in several places,
was split in all its length.

"I've a notion!" exclaimed Pencroft, "that this vessel will be difficult
to get afloat again."

"It will be impossible," said Ayrton.

"At any rate," observed Gideon Spilett to the sailor, "the explosion, if
there has been one, has produced singular effects! It has split the lower
part of the hull, instead of blowing up the deck and topsides! These great
rents appear rather to have been made by a rock than by the explosion of a
powder-magazine."

"There is not a rock in the channel!" answered the sailor. "I will admit
anything you like, except the rock."

"Let us try to penetrate into the interior of the brig," said the
engineer; "perhaps we shall then know what to think of the cause of her
destruction."

This was the best thing to be done, and it was agreed, besides, to take an
inventory of all the treasures on board, and to arrange their
preservation.

Access to the interior of the brig was now easy. The tide was still going
down and the deck was practicable. The ballast, composed of heavy masses
of iron, had broken through in several places. The noise of the sea could
be heard as it rushed out at the holes in the hull.

Cyrus Harding and his companions, hatchets in hand, advanced along the
shattered deck. Cases of all sorts encumbered it, and, as they had been
but a very short time in the water, their contents were perhaps uninjured.

They then busied themselves in placing all this cargo in safety. The water
would not return for several hours, and these hours must be employed in
the most profitable way. Ayrton and Pencroft had, at the entrance made in
the hull, discovered tackle, which would serve to hoist up the barrels and
chests. The boat received them and transported them to the shore. They
took the articles as they came, intending to sort them afterwards.

At any rate, the settlers saw at once, with extreme satisfaction, that the
brig possessed a very varied cargo—an assortment of all sorts of
articles, utensils, manufactured goods, and tools—such as the ships
which make the great coasting-trade of Polynesia are usually laden with.
It was probable that they would find a little of everything, and they
agreed that it was exactly what was necessary for the colony of Lincoln
Island.

However—and Cyrus Harding observed it in silent astonishment—not
only, as has been said, had the hull of the brig enormously suffered from
the shock, whatever it was, that had occasioned the catastrophe, but the
interior arrangements had been destroyed, especially towards the bows.
Partitions and stanchions were smashed, as if some tremendous shell had
burst in the interior of the brig. The colonists could easily go fore and
aft, after having removed the cases as they were extricated. They were not
heavy bales, which would have been difficult to remove, but simple
packages, of which the stowage, besides, was no longer recognizable.

The colonists then reached the stern of the brig—the part formerly
surmounted by the poop. It was there that, following Ayrton's directions,
they must look for the powder-magazine. Cyrus Harding thought that it had
not exploded; that it was possible some barrels might be saved, and that
the powder, which is usually enclosed in metal coverings might not have
suffered from contact with the water.

This, in fact, was just what had happened. They extricated from among a
large number of shot twenty barrels, the insides of which were lined with
copper. Pencroft was convinced by the evidence of his own eyes that the
destruction of the "Speedy" could not be attributed to an explosion. That
part of the hull in which the magazine was situated was, moreover, that
which had suffered least.

"It may be so," said the obstinate sailor; "but as to a rock, there is not
one in the channel!"

Several hours had passed during these researches, and the tide began to
flow. Work must be suspended for the present. There was no fear of the
brig being carried away by the sea, for she was already fixed as firmly as
if moored by her anchors.

They could, therefore, without inconvenience, wait until the next day to
resume operations; but, as to the vessel itself, she was doomed, and it
would be best to hasten to save the remains of her hull, as she would not
be long in disappearing in the quicksands of the channel.

It was now five o'clock in the evening. It had been a hard day's work for
the men. They ate with good appetite, and notwithstanding their fatigue,
they could not resist, after dinner, their desire of inspecting the cases
which composed the cargo of the "Speedy."

Most of them contained clothes, which, as may be believed, was well
received. There were enough to clothe a whole colony—linen for every
one's use, shoes for every one's feet.

"We are too rich!" exclaimed Pencroft, "But what are we going to do with
all this?"

And every moment burst forth the hurrahs of the delighted sailor when he
caught sight of the barrels of gunpowder, firearms and sidearms, balls of
cotton, implements of husbandry, carpenter's, joiner's, and blacksmith's
tools, and boxes of all kinds of seeds, not in the least injured by their
short sojourn in the water. Ah, two years before, how these things would
have been prized! And now, even though the industrious colonists had
provided themselves with tools, these treasures would find their use.

There was no want of space in the store-rooms of Granite House, but that
daytime would not allow them to stow away the whole. It would not do also
to forget that the six survivors of the "Speedy's" crew had landed on the
island, for they were in all probability scoundrels of the deepest dye,
and it was necessary that the colonists should be on their guard against
them. Although the bridges over the Mercy were raised, the convicts would
not be stopped by a river or a stream and, rendered desperate, these
wretches would be capable of anything.

They would see later what plan it would be best to follow; but in the
meantime it was necessary to mount guard over cases and packages heaped up
near the Chimneys, and thus the settlers employed themselves in turn
during the night.

The morning came, however, without the convicts having attempted any
attack. Master Jup and Top, on guard at the foot of Granite House, would
have quickly given the alarm. The three following days—the 19th,
20th, and 21st of October—were employed in saving everything of
value, or of any use whatever, either from the cargo or rigging of the
brig. At low tide they overhauled the hold—at high tide they stowed
away the rescued articles. A great part of the copper sheathing had been
torn from the hull, which every day sank lower. But before the sand had
swallowed the heavy things which had fallen through the bottom, Ayrton and
Pencroft, diving to the bed of the channel, recovered the chains and
anchors of the brig, the iron of her ballast, and even four guns, which,
floated by means of empty casks, were brought to shore.

It may be seen that the arsenal of the colony had gained by the wreck, as
well as the storerooms of Granite House. Pencroft, always enthusiastic in
his projects, already spoke of constructing a battery to command the
channel and the mouth of the river. With four guns, he engaged to prevent
any fleet, "however powerful it might be," from venturing into the waters
of Lincoln Island!

In the meantime, when nothing remained of the brig but a useless hulk, bad
weather came on, which soon finished her. Cyrus Harding had intended to
blow her up, so as to collect the remains on the shore, but a strong gale
from the northeast and a heavy sea compelled him to economize his powder.

In fact, on the night of the 23rd, the hull entirely broke up, and some of
the wreck was cast up on the beach.

As to the papers on board, it is useless to say that, although he
carefully searched the lockers of the poop, Harding did not discover any
trace of them. The pirates had evidently destroyed everything that
concerned either the captain or the owners of the "Speedy," and, as the
name of her port was not painted on her counter, there was nothing which
would tell them her nationality. However, by the shape of her boats Ayrton
and Pencroft believed that the brig was of English build.

A week after the castrophe—or, rather, after the fortunate, though
inexplicable, event to which the colony owed its preservation—nothing
more could be seen of the vessel, even at low tide. The wreck had
disappeared, and Granite House was enriched by nearly all it had
contained.

However, the mystery which enveloped its strange destruction would
doubtless never have been cleared away if, on the 30th of November, Neb,
strolling on the beach, had not found a piece of a thick iron cylinder,
bearing traces of explosion. The edges of this cylinder were twisted and
broken, as if they had been subjected to the action of some explosive
substance.

Neb brought this piece of metal to his master, who was then occupied with
his companions in the workshop of the Chimneys.

"You persist, my friend," said he, "in maintaining that the 'Speedy' was
not lost in consequence of a collision?"

"Yes, captain," answered the sailor. "You know as well as I do that there
are no rocks in the channel."

"But suppose she had run against this piece of iron?" said the engineer,
showing the broken cylinder.

"What, that bit of pipe!" exclaimed Pencroft in a tone of perfect
incredulity.

"My friends," resumed Harding, "you remember that before she foundered the
brig rose on the summit of a regular waterspout?"

"Yes, captain," replied Herbert.

"Well, would you like to know what occasioned that waterspout? It was
this," said the engineer, holding up the broken tube.

"That?" returned Pencroft.

"Yes! This cylinder is all that remains of a torpedo!"

"A torpedo!" exclaimed the engineer's companions.

"And who put the torpedo there?" demanded Pencroft, who did not like to
yield.

"All that I can tell you is, that it was not I," answered Cyrus Harding;
"but it was there, and you have been able to judge of its incomparable
power!"

Chapter 5

So, then, all was explained by the submarine explosion of this torpedo.
Cyrus Harding could not be mistaken, as, during the war of the Union, he
had had occasion to try these terrible engines of destruction. It was
under the action of this cylinder, charged with some explosive substance,
nitro-glycerine, picrate, or some other material of the same nature, that
the water of the channel had been raised like a dome, the bottom of the
brig crushed in, and she had sunk instantly, the damage done to her hull
being so considerable that it was impossible to refloat her. The "Speedy"
had not been able to withstand a torpedo that would have destroyed an
ironclad as easily as a fishing-boat!

Yes! all was explained, everything—except the presence of the
torpedo in the waters of the channel!

"My friends, then," said Cyrus Harding, "we can no longer be in doubt as
to the presence of a mysterious being, a castaway like us, perhaps,
abandoned on our island, and I say this in order that Ayrton may be
acquainted with all the strange events which have occurred during these
two years. Who this beneficent stranger is, whose intervention has, so
fortunately for us, been manifested on many occasions, I cannot imagine.
What his object can be in acting thus, in concealing himself after
rendering us so many services, I cannot understand: But his services are
not the less real, and are of such a nature that only a man possessed of
prodigious power, could render them. Ayrton is indebted to him as much as
we are, for, if it was the stranger who saved me from the waves after the
fall from the balloon, evidently it was he who wrote the document, who
placed the bottle in the channel, and who has made known to us the
situation of our companion. I will add that it was he who guided that
chest, provided with everything we wanted, and stranded it on Flotsam
Point; that it was he who lighted that fire on the heights of the island,
which permitted you to land; that it was he who fired that bullet found in
the body of the peccary; that it was he who plunged that torpedo into the
channel, which destroyed the brig; in a word, that all those inexplicable
events, for which we could not assign a reason, are due to this mysterious
being. Therefore, whoever he may be, whether shipwrecked, or exiled on our
island, we shall be ungrateful, if we think ourselves freed from gratitude
towards him. We have contracted a debt, and I hope that we shall one day
pay it."

"You are right in speaking thus, my dear Cyrus," replied Gideon Spilett.
"Yes, there is an almost all-powerful being, hidden in some part of the
island, and whose influence has been singularly useful to our colony. I
will add that the unknown appears to possess means of action which border
on the supernatural, if in the events of practical life the supernatural
were recognizable. Is it he who is in secret communication with us by the
well in Granite House, and has he thus a knowledge of all our plans? Was
it he who threw us that bottle, when the vessel made her first cruise? Was
it he who threw Top out of the lake, and killed the dugong? Was it he, who
as everything leads us to believe, saved you from the waves, and that
under circumstances in which any one else would not have been able to act?
If it was he, he possesses a power which renders him master of the
elements."

The reporter's reasoning was just, and every one felt it to be so.

"Yes," rejoined Cyrus Harding, "if the intervention of a human being is
not more questionable for us, I agree that he has at his disposal means of
action beyond those possessed by humanity. There is a mystery still, but
if we discover the man, the mystery will be discovered also. The question,
then, is, ought we to respect the incognito of this generous being, or
ought we to do everything to find him out? What is your opinion on the
matter?"

"My opinion," said Pencroft, "is that, whoever he may be, he is a brave
man, and he has my esteem!"

"Be it so," answered Harding, "but that is not an answer, Pencroft."

"Master," then said Neb, "my idea is, that we may search as long as we
like for this gentleman whom you are talking about, but that we shall not
discover him till he pleases."

"That's not bad, what you say, Neb," observed Pencroft.

"I am of Neb's opinion," said Gideon Spilett, "but that is no reason for
not attempting the adventure. Whether we find this mysterious being or
not, we shall at least have fulfilled our duty towards him."

"Oh," cried Herbert, his countenance full of animation, "how I should like
to thank him, he who saved you first, and who has now saved us!"

"Of course, my boy," replied Pencroft, "so would I and all of us. I am not
inquisitive, but I would give one of my eyes to see this individual face
to face! It seems to me that he must be handsome, tall, strong, with a
splendid beard, radiant hair, and that he must be seated on clouds, a
great ball in his hands!"

"But, Pencroft," answered Spilett, "you are describing a picture of the
Creator."

"Possibly, Mr. Spilett," replied the sailor, "but that is how I imagine
him!"

"And you, Ayrton?" asked the engineer.

"Captain Harding," replied Ayrton, "I can give you no better advice in
this matter. Whatever you do will be best; when you wish me to join you in
your researches, I am ready to follow you.

"I thank you, Ayrton," answered Cyrus Harding, "but I should like a more
direct answer to the question I put to you. You are our companion; you
have already endangered your life several times for us, and you, as well
as the rest, ought to be consulted in the matter of any important
decision. Speak, therefore."

"Captain Harding," replied Ayrton, "I think that we ought to do everything
to discover this unknown benefactor. Perhaps he is alone. Perhaps he is
suffering. Perhaps he has a life to be renewed. I, too, as you said, have
a debt of gratitude to pay him. It was he, it could be only he who must
have come to Tabor Island, who found there the wretch you knew, and who
made known to you that there was an unfortunate man there to be saved.
Therefore it is, thanks to him, that I have become a man again. No, I will
never forget him!"

"That is settled, then," said Cyrus Harding. "We will begin our researches
as soon as possible. We will not leave a corner of the island unexplored.
We will search into its most secret recesses, and will hope that our
unknown friend will pardon us in consideration of our intentions!"

For several days the colonists were actively employed in haymaking and the
harvest. Before putting their project of exploring the yet unknown parts
of the island into execution, they wished to get all possible work
finished. It was also the time for collecting the various vegetables from
the Tabor Island plants. All was stowed away, and happily there was no
want of room in Granite House, in which they might have housed all the
treasures of the island. The products of the colony were there,
methodically arranged, and in a safe place, as may be believed, sheltered
as much from animals as from man.

There was no fear of damp in the middle of that thick mass of granite.
Many natural excavations situated in the upper passage were enlarged
either by pick-axe or mine, and Granite House thus became a general
warehouse, containing all the provisions, arms, tools, and spare utensils—in
a word, all the stores of the colony.

As to the guns obtained from the brig, they were pretty pieces of
ordnance, which, at Pencroft's entreaty, were hoisted by means of tackle
and pulleys, right up into Granite House; embrasures were made between the
windows, and the shining muzzles of the guns could soon be seen through
the granite cliff. From this height they commanded all Union Bay. It was
like a little Gibraltar, and any vessel anchored off the islet would
inevitably be exposed to the fire of this aerial battery.

"Captain," said Pencroft one day, it was the 8th of November, "now that
our fortifications are finished, it would be a good thing if we tried the
range of our guns."

"Do you think that is useful?" asked the engineer.

"It is more than useful, it is necessary! Without that how are we to know
to what distance we can send one of those pretty shot with which we are
provided?"

"Try them, Pencroft," replied the engineer. "However, I think that in
making the experiment, we ought to employ, not the ordinary powder, the
supply of which, I think, should remain untouched, but the pyroxyle which
will never fail us."

"Can the cannon support the shock of the pyroxyle?" asked the reporter,
who was not less anxious than Pencroft to try the artillery of Granite
House.

"I believe so. However," added the engineer, "we will be prudent." The
engineer was right in thinking that the guns were of excellent make. Made
of forged steel, and breech-loaders, they ought consequently to be able to
bear a considerable charge, and also have an enormous range. In fact, as
regards practical effect, the transit described by the ball ought to be as
extended as possible, and this tension could only be obtained under the
condition that the projectile should be impelled with a very great initial
velocity.

"Now," said Harding to his companions, "the initial velocity is in
proportion to the quantity of powder used. In the fabrication of these
pieces, everything depends on employing a metal with the highest possible
power of resistance, and steel is incontestably that metal of all others
which resists the best. I have, therefore, reason to believe that our guns
will bear without risk the expansion of the pyroxyle gas, and will give
excellent results."

"We shall be a great deal more certain of that when we have tried them!"
answered Pencroft.

It is unnecessary to say that the four cannons were in perfect order.
Since they had been taken from the water, the sailor had bestowed great
care upon them. How many hours he had spent, in rubbing, greasing, and
polishing them, and in cleaning the mechanism! And now the pieces were as
brilliant as if they had been on board a frigate of the United States
Navy.

On this day, therefore, in presence of all the members of the colony,
including Master Jup and Top, the four cannon were successively tried.
They were charged with pyroxyle, taking into consideration its explosive
power, which, as has been said, is four times that of ordinary powder: the
projectile to be fired was cylindroconic.

Pencroft, holding the end of the quick-match, stood ready to fire.

At Harding's signal, he fired. The shot, passing over the islet, fell into
the sea at a distance which could not be calculated with exactitude.

The second gun was pointed at the rocks at the end of Flotsam Point, and
the shot striking a sharp rock nearly three miles from Granite House, made
it fly into splinters. It was Herbert who had pointed this gun and fired
it, and very proud he was of his first shot. Pencroft only was prouder
than he! Such a shot, the honor of which belonged to his dear boy.

The third shot, aimed this time at the downs forming the upper side of
Union Bay, struck the sand at a distance of four miles, then having
ricocheted: was lost in the sea in a cloud of spray.

For the fourth piece Cyrus Harding slightly increased the charge, so as to
try its extreme range. Then, all standing aside for fear of its bursting,
the match was lighted by means of a long cord.

A tremendous report was heard, but the piece had held good, and the
colonists rushing to the windows, saw the shot graze the rocks of Mandible
Cape, nearly five miles from Granite House, and disappear in Shark Gulf.

"Well, captain," exclaimed Pencroft, whose cheers might have rivaled the
reports themselves, "what do you say of our battery? All the pirates in
the Pacific have only to present themselves before Granite House! Not one
can land there now without our permission!"

"Believe me, Pencroft," replied the engineer, "it would be better not to
have to make the experiment."

"Well," said the sailor, "what ought to be done with regard to those six
villains who are roaming about the island? Are we to leave them to overrun
our forests, our fields, our plantations? These pirates are regular
jaguars, and it seems to me we ought not to hesitate to treat them as
such! What do you think, Ayrton?" added Pencroft, turning to his
companion.

Ayrton hesitated at first to reply, and Cyrus Harding regretted that
Pencroft had so thoughtlessly put this question. And he was much moved
when Ayrton replied in a humble tone,—

"I have been one of those jaguars, Mr. Pencroft. I have no right to
speak."

And with a slow step he walked away.

Pencroft understood.

"What a brute I am!" he exclaimed. "Poor Ayrton! He has as much right to
speak here as any one!"

"Yes," said Gideon Spilett, "but his reserve does him honor, and it is
right to respect the feeling which he has about his sad past."

"Certainly, Mr. Spilett," answered the sailor, "and there is no fear of my
doing so again. I would rather bite my tongue off than cause Ayrton any
pain! But to return to the question. It seems to me that these ruffians
have no right to any pity, and that we ought to rid the island of them as
soon as possible."

"Is that your opinion, Pencroft?" asked the engineer.

"Quite my opinion."

"And before hunting them mercilessly, you would not wait until they had
committed some fresh act of hostility against us?"

"Isn't what they have done already enough?" asked Pencroft, who did not
understand these scruples.

"They may adopt other sentiments!" said Harding, "and perhaps repent."

"They repent!" exclaimed the sailor, shrugging his shoulders.

"Pencroft, think of Ayrton!" said Herbert, taking the sailor's hand. "He
became an honest man again!"

Pencroft looked at his companions one after the other. He had never
thought of his proposal being met with any objection. His rough nature
could not allow that they ought to come to terms with the rascals who had
landed on the island with Bob Harvey's accomplices, the murderers of the
crew of the "Speedy," and he looked upon them as wild beasts which ought
to be destroyed without delay and without remorse.

"Come!" said be. "Everybody is against me! You wish to be generous to
those villains! Very well; I hope we mayn't repent it!"

"What danger shall we run," said Herbert, "if we take care to be always on
our guard?"

"Hum!" observed the reporter, who had not given any decided opinion. "They
are six and well armed. If they each lay hid in a corner, and each fired
at one of us, they would soon be masters of the colony!"

"Why have they not done so?" said Herbert. "No doubt because it was not
their interest to do it. Besides, we are six also."

"Well, well!" replied Pencroft, whom no reasoning could have convinced.
"Let us leave these good people to do what they like, and don't think
anything more about them!"

"Come, Pencroft," said Neb, "don't make yourself out so bad as all that!
Suppose one of these unfortunate men were here before you, within good
range of your guns, you would not fire."

"I would fire on him as I would on a mad dog, Neb," replied Pencroft
coldly.

"Pencroft," said the engineer, "you have always shown much deference to my
advice; will you, in this matter, yield to me?"

"I will do as you please, Captain Harding," answered the sailor, who was
not at all convinced.

"Very well, wait, and we will not attack them unless we are attacked
first."

Thus their behavior towards the pirates was agreed upon, although Pencroft
augured nothing good from it. They were not to attack them, but were to be
on their guard. After all, the island was large and fertile. If any
sentiment of honesty yet remained in the bottom of their hearts, these
wretches might perhaps be reclaimed. Was it not their interest in the
situation in which they found themselves to begin a new life? At any rate,
for humanity's sake alone, it would be right to wait. The colonists would
no longer as before, be able to go and come without fear. Hitherto they
had only wild beasts to guard against, and now six convicts of the worst
description, perhaps, were roaming over their island. It was serious,
certainly, and to less brave men, it would have been security lost! No
matter! At present, the colonists had reason on their side against
Pencroft. Would they be right in the future? That remained to be seen.

Chapter 6

However, the chief business of the colonists was to make that complete
exploration of the island which had been decided upon, and which would
have two objects: to discover the mysterious being whose existence was now
indisputable, and at the same time to find out what had become of the
pirates, what retreat they had chosen, what sort of life they were
leading, and what was to be feared from them. Cyrus Harding wished to set
out without delay; but as the expedition would be of some days duration,
it appeared best to load the cart with different materials and tools in
order to facilitate the organization of the encampments. One of the
onagers, however, having hurt its leg, could not be harnessed at present,
and a few days' rest was necessary. The departure was, therefore, put off
for a week, until the 20th of November. The month of November in this
latitude corresponds to the month of May in the northern zones. It was,
therefore, the fine season. The sun was entering the tropic of Capricorn,
and gave the longest days in the year. The time was, therefore, very
favorable for the projected expedition, which, if it did not accomplish
its principal object, would at any rate be fruitful in discoveries,
especially of natural productions, since Harding proposed to explore those
dense forests of the Far West, which stretched to the extremity of the
Serpentine Peninsula.

During the nine days which preceded their departure, it was agreed that
the work on Prospect Heights should be finished off.

Moreover, it was necessary for Ayrton to return to the corral, where the
domesticated animals required his care. It was decided that he should
spend two days there, and return to Granite House after having liberally
supplied the stables.

As he was about to start, Harding asked him if he would not like one of
them to accompany him, observing that the island was less safe than
formerly. Ayrton replied that this was unnecessary, as he was enough for
the work, and that besides he apprehended no danger. If anything occurred
at the corral, or in the neighborhood, he could instantly warn the
colonists by sending a telegram to Granite House.

Ayrton departed at dawn on the 9th, taking the cart drawn by one onager,
and two hours after, the electric wire announced that he had found all in
order at the corral.

During these two days Harding busied himself in executing a project which
would completely guard Granite House against any surprise. It was
necessary to completely conceal the opening of the old outlet, which was
already walled up and partly hidden under grass and plants, at the
southern angle of Lake Grant. Nothing was easier, since if the level of
the lake was raised two or three feet, the opening would be quite beneath
it. Now, to raise this level they had only to establish a dam at the two
openings made by the lake, and by which were fed Creek Glycerine and Falls
River.

The colonists worked with a will, and the two dams which besides did not
exceed eight feet in width by three in height, were rapidly erected by
means of well-cemented blocks of stone.

This work finished, it would have been impossible to guess that at that
part of the lake, there existed a subterranean passage through which the
overflow of the lake formerly escaped.

Of course the little stream which fed the reservoir of Granite House and
worked the lift, had been carefully preserved, and the water could not
fail. The lift once raised, this sure and comfortable retreat would be
safe from any surprise.

This work had been so quickly done, that Pencroft, Gideon Spilett, and
Herbert found time to make an expedition to Port Balloon, The sailor was
very anxious to know if the little creek in which the "Bonadventure" was
moored, had been visited by the convicts.

"These gentlemen," he observed, "landed on the south coast, and if they
followed the shore, it is to be feared that they may have discovered the
little harbor, and in that case, I wouldn't give half-a-dollar for our
'Bonadventure.'"

Pencroft's apprehensions were not without foundation, and a visit to Port
Balloon appeared to be very desirable. The sailor and his companions set
off on the 10th of November, after dinner, well armed. Pencroft,
ostentatiously slipping two bullets into each barrel of his rifle, shook
his head in a way which betokened nothing good to any one who approached
too near him, whether "man or beast," as he said. Gideon Spilett and
Herbert also took their guns, and about three o'clock all three left
Granite House.

Neb accompanied them to the turn of the Mercy, and after they had crossed,
he raised the bridge. It was agreed that a gunshot should announce the
colonists' return, and that at the signal Neb should return and
reestablish the communication between the two banks of the river.

The little band advanced directly along the road which led to the southern
coast of the island. This was only a distance of three miles and a half,
but Gideon Spilett and his companions took two hours to traverse it. They
examined all the border of the road, the thick forest, as well as Tabor
Marsh. They found no trace of the fugitives who, no doubt, not having yet
discovered the number of the colonists, or the means of defense which they
had at their disposal, had gained the less accessible parts of the island.

Arrived at Port Balloon, Pencroft saw with extreme satisfaction that the
"Bonadventure" was tranquilly floating in the narrow creek. However, Port
Balloon was so well hidden among high rocks, that it could scarcely be
discovered either from the land or the sea.

"Come," said Pencroft, "the blackguards have not been there yet. Long
grass suits reptiles best, and evidently we shall find them in the Far
West."

"And it's very lucky, for if they had found the 'Bonadventure'," added
Herbert, "they would have gone off in her, and we should have been
prevented from returning to Tabor Island."

"Indeed," remarked the reporter, "it will be important to take a document
there which will make known the situation of Lincoln Island, and Ayrton's
new residence, in case the Scotch yacht returns to fetch him."

"Well, the 'Bonadventure' is always there, Mr. Spilett," answered the
sailor. "She and her crew are ready to start at a moment's notice!"

"I think, Pencroft, that that is a thing to be done after our exploration
of the island is finished. It is possible after all that the stranger, if
we manage to find him, may know as much about Tabor Island as about
Lincoln Island. Do not forget that he is certainly the author of the
document, and he may, perhaps, know how far we may count on the return of
the yacht!"

"But!" exclaimed Pencroft, "who in the world can he be? The fellow knows
us and we know nothing about him! If he is a simple castaway, why should
he conceal himself! We are honest men, I suppose, and the society of
honest men isn't unpleasant to any one. Did he come here voluntarily? Can
he leave the island if he likes? Is he here still? Will he remain any
longer?"

Chatting thus, Pencroft, Gideon Spilett, and Herbert got on board and
looked about the deck of the "Bonadventure." All at once, the sailor
having examined the bitts to which the cable of the anchor was secured,—

"Hallo," he cried, "this is queer!"

"What is the matter, Pencroft?" asked the reporter.

"The matter is, that it was not I who made this knot!"

And Pencroft showed a rope which fastened the cable to the bitt itself.

"What, it was not you?" asked Gideon Spilett.

"No! I can swear to it. This is a reef knot, and I always make a running
bowline."

"You must be mistaken, Pencroft."

"I am not mistaken!" declared the sailor. "My hand does it so naturally,
and one's hand is never mistaken!"

"Then can the convicts have been on board?" asked Herbert.

"I know nothing about that," answered Pencroft, "but what is certain, is
that some one has weighed the 'Bonadventure's' anchor and dropped it
again! And look here, here is another proof! The cable of the anchor has
been run out, and its service is no longer at the hawse-hole. I repeat
that some one has been using our vessel!"

"But if the convicts had used her, they would have pillaged her, or rather
gone off with her."

"Gone off! where to—to Tabor Island?" replied Pencroft. "Do you
think, they would risk themselves in a boat of such small tonnage?"

"We must, besides, be sure that they know of the islet," rejoined the
reporter.

"However that may be," said the sailor, "as sure as my name is
Bonadventure Pencroft, of the Vineyard, our 'Bonadventure' has sailed
without us!"

The sailor was positive that neither Gideon Spilett nor Herbert could
dispute his statement. It was evident that the vessel had been moved, more
or less, since Pencroft had brought her to Port Balloon. As to the sailor,
he had not the slightest doubt that the anchor had been raised and then
dropped again. Now, what was the use of these two maneuvers, unless the
vessel had been employed in some expedition?

"But how was it we did not see the 'Bonadventure' pass in the sight of the
island?" observed the reporter, who was anxious to bring forward every
possible objection.

"Why, Mr. Spilett," replied the sailor, "they would only have to start in
the night with a good breeze, and they would be out of sight of the island
in two hours."

"Well," resumed Gideon Spilett, "I ask again, what object could the
convicts have had in using the 'Bonadventure,' and why, after they had
made use of her, should they have brought her back to port?"

"Why, Mr. Spilett," replied the sailor, "we must put that among the
unaccountable things, and not think anything more about it. The chief
thing is that the 'Bonadventure' was there, and she is there now. Only,
unfortunately, if the convicts take her a second time, we shall very
likely not find her again in her place!"

"Then, Pencroft," said Herbert, "would it not be wisest to bring the
'Bonadventure' off to Granite House?"

"Yes and no," answered Pencroft, "or rather no. The mouth of the Mercy is
a bad place for a vessel, and the sea is heavy there."

"But by hauling her up on the sand, to the foot of the Chimneys?"

"Perhaps yes," replied Pencroft. "At any rate, since we must leave Granite
House for a long expedition, I think the 'Bonadventure' will be safer here
during our absence, and we shall do best to leave her here until the
island is rid of these blackguards."

"That is exactly my opinion," said the reporter. "At any rate in the event
of bad weather, she will not be exposed here as she would be at the mouth
of the Mercy."

"But suppose the convicts pay her another visit," said Herbert.

"Well, my boy," replied Pencroft, "not finding her here, they would not be
long in finding her on the sands of Granite House, and, during our
absence, nothing could hinder them from seizing her! I agree, therefore,
with Mr. Spilett, that she must be left in Port Balloon. But, if on our
return we have not rid the island of those rascals, it will be prudent to
bring our boat to Granite House, until the time when we need not fear any
unpleasant visits."

"That's settled. Let us be off," said the reporter.

Pencroft, Herbert, and Gideon Spilett, on their return to Granite House,
told the engineer all that had passed, and the latter approved of their
arrangements both for the present and the future. He also promised the
sailor that he would study that part of the channel situated between the
islet and the coast, so as to ascertain if it would not be possible to
make an artificial harbor there by means of dams. In this way, the
"Bonadventure" would be always within reach, under the eyes of the
colonists, and if necessary, under lock and key.

That evening a telegram was sent to Ayrton, requesting him to bring from
the corral a couple of goats, which Neb wished to acclimatize to the
plateau. Singularly enough, Ayrton did not acknowledge the receipt of the
despatch, as he was accustomed to do. This could not but astonish the
engineer. But it might be that Ayrton was not at that moment in the
corral, or even that he was on his way back to Granite House. In fact, two
days had already passed since his departure, and it had been decided that
on the evening of the 10th or at the latest the morning of the 11th, he
should return. The colonists waited, therefore, for Ayrton to appear on
Prospect Heights. Neb and Herbert even watched at the bridge so as to be
ready to lower it the moment their companion presented himself.

But up to ten in the evening, there were no signs of Ayrton. It was,
therefore, judged best to send a fresh despatch, requiring an immediate
reply.

The bell of the telegraph at Granite House remained mute.

The colonists' uneasiness was great. What had happened? Was Ayrton no
longer at the corral, or if he was still there, had he no longer control
over his movements? Could they go to the corral in this dark night?

They consulted. Some wished to go, the others to remain.

"But," said Herbert, "perhaps some accident has happened to the
telegraphic apparatus, so that it works no longer?"

"That may be," said the reporter.

"Wait till to-morrow," replied Cyrus Harding. "It is possible, indeed,
that Ayrton has not received our despatch, or even that we have not
received his."

They waited, of course not without some anxiety.

At dawn of day, the 11th of November, Harding again sent the electric
current along the wire and received no reply.

He tried again: the same result.

"Off to the corral," said he.

"And well armed!" added Pencroft.

It was immediately decided that Granite House should not be left alone and
that Neb should remain there. After having accompanied his friends to
Creek Glycerine, he raised the bridge; and waiting behind a tree he
watched for the return of either his companions or Ayrton.

In the event of the pirates presenting themselves and attempting to force
the passage, he was to endeavor to stop them by firing on them, and as a
last resource he was to take refuge in Granite House, where, the lift once
raised, he would be in safety.

Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, and Pencroft were to repair to the
corral, and if they did not find Ayrton, search the neighboring woods.

At six o'clock in the morning, the engineer and his three companions had
passed Creek Glycerine, and Neb posted himself behind a small mound
crowned by several dragon trees, on the left bank of the stream.

The colonists, after leaving the plateau of Prospect Heights, immediately
took the road to the corral. They shouldered their guns, ready to fire on
the slightest hostile demonstration. The two rifles and the two guns had
been loaded with ball.

The wood was thick on each side of the road and might easily have
concealed the convicts, who owing to their weapons would have been really
formidable.

The colonists walked rapidly and in silence. Top preceded them, sometimes
running on the road, sometimes taking a ramble into the wood, but always
quiet and not appearing to fear anything unusual. And they could be sure
that the faithful dog would not allow them to be surprised, but would bark
at the least appearance of danger.

Cyrus Harding and his companions followed beside the road the wire which
connected the corral with Granite House. After walking for nearly two
miles, they had not as yet discovered any explanation of the difficulty.
The posts were in good order, the wire regularly extended. However, at
that moment the engineer observed that the wire appeared to be slack, and
on arriving at post No. 74, Herbert, who was in advance stopped,
exclaiming,—

"The wire is broken!"

His companions hurried forward and arrived at the spot where the lad was
standing. The post was rooted up and lying across the path. The unexpected
explanation of the difficulty was here, and it was evident that the
despatches from Granite House had not been received at the corral, nor
those from the corral at Granite House.

"It wasn't the wind that blew down this post," observed Pencroft.

"No," replied Gideon Spilett. "The earth has been dug up round its foot,
and it has been torn up by the hand of man."

"Besides, the wire is broken," added Herbert, showing that the wire had
been snapped.

"Is the fracture recent?" asked Harding.

"Yes," answered Herbert, "it has certainly been done quite lately."

"To the corral! to the corral!" exclaimed the sailor.

The colonists were now half way between Granite House and the corral,
having still two miles and a half to go. They pressed forward with
redoubled speed.

Indeed, it was to be feared that some serious accident had occurred in the
corral. No doubt, Ayrton might have sent a telegram which had not arrived,
but this was not the reason why his companions were so uneasy, for, a more
unaccountable circumstance, Ayrton, who had promised to return the evening
before, had not reappeared. In short, it was not without a motive that all
communication had been stopped between the corral and Granite House, and
who but the convicts could have any interest in interrupting this
communication?

The settlers hastened on, their hearts oppressed with anxiety. They were
sincerely attached to their new companion. Were they to find him struck
down by the hands of those of whom he was formerly the leader?

Soon they arrived at the place where the road led along the side of the
little stream which flowed from the Red Creek and watered the meadows of
the corral. They then moderated their pace so that they should not be out
of breath at the moment when a struggle might be necessary. Their guns
were in their hands ready cocked. The forest was watched on every side.
Top uttered sullen groans which were rather ominous.

At last the palisade appeared through the trees. No trace of any damage
could be seen. The gate was shut as usual. Deep silence reigned in the
corral. Neither the accustomed bleating of the sheep nor Ayrton's voice
could be heard.

"Let us enter," said Cyrus Harding.

And the engineer advanced, while his companions, keeping watch about
twenty paces behind him, were ready to fire at a moment's notice.

Harding raised the inner latch of the gate and was about to push it back,
when Top barked loudly. A report sounded and was responded to by a cry of
pain.

Herbert, struck by a bullet, lay stretched on the ground.

Chapter 7

At Herbert's cry, Pencroft, letting his gun fall, rushed towards him.

"They have killed him!" he cried. "My boy! They have killed him!"

Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett ran to Herbert.

The reporter listened to ascertain if the poor lad's heart was still
beating.

"He lives," said he, "but he must be carried—"

"To Granite House? that is impossible!" replied the engineer.

"Into the corral, then!" said Pencroft.

"In a moment," said Harding.

And he ran round the left corner of the palisade. There he found a
convict, who aiming at him, sent a ball through his hat. In a few seconds,
before he had even time to fire his second barrel, he fell, struck to the
heart by Harding's dagger, more sure even than his gun.

During this time, Gideon Spilett and the sailor hoisted themselves over
the palisade, leaped into the enclosure, threw down the props which
supported the inner door, ran into the empty house, and soon, poor Herbert
was lying on Ayrton's bed. In a few moments, Harding was by his side.

On seeing Herbert senseless, the sailor's grief was terrible.

He sobbed, he cried, he tried to beat his head against the wall.

Neither the engineer nor the reporter could calm him. They themselves were
choked with emotion. They could not speak.

However, they knew that it depended on them to rescue from death the poor
boy who was suffering beneath their eyes. Gideon Spilett had not passed
through the many incidents by which his life had been checkered without
acquiring some slight knowledge of medicine. He knew a little of
everything, and several times he had been obliged to attend to wounds
produced either by a sword-bayonet or shot. Assisted by Cyrus Harding, he
proceeded to render the aid Herbert required.

The reporter was immediately struck by the complete stupor in which
Herbert lay, a stupor owing either to the hemorrhage, or to the shock, the
ball having struck a bone with sufficient force to produce a violent
concussion.

Herbert was deadly pale, and his pulse so feeble that Spilett only felt it
beat at long intervals, as if it was on the point of stopping.

These symptoms were very serious.

Herbert's chest was laid bare, and the blood having been stanched with
handkerchiefs, it was bathed with cold water.

The contusion, or rather the contused wound appeared,—an oval below
the chest between the third and fourth ribs. It was there that Herbert had
been hit by the bullet.

Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett then turned the poor boy over; as they
did so, he uttered a moan so feeble that they almost thought it was his
last sigh.

Herberts back was covered with blood from another contused wound, by which
the ball had immediately escaped.

"God be praised!" said the reporter, "the ball is not in the body, and we
shall not have to extract it."

"But the heart?" asked Harding.

"The heart has not been touched; if it had been, Herbert would be dead!"

"Dead!" exclaimed Pencroft, with a groan.

The sailor had only heard the last words uttered by the reporter.

"No, Pencroft," replied Cyrus Harding, "no! He is not dead. His pulse
still beats. He has even uttered a moan. But for your boy's sake, calm
yourself. We have need of all our self-possession."

"Do not make us lose it, my friend."

Pencroft was silent, but a reaction set in, and great tears rolled down
his cheeks.

In the meanwhile, Gideon Spilett endeavored to collect his ideas, and
proceed methodically. After his examination he had no doubt that the ball,
entering in front, between the seventh and eighth ribs, had issued behind
between the third and fourth. But what mischief had the ball committed in
its passage? What important organs had been reached? A professional
surgeon would have had difficulty in determining this at once, and still
more so the reporter.

However, he knew one thing, this was that he would have to prevent the
inflammatory strangulation of the injured parts, then to contend with the
local inflammation and fever which would result from the wound, perhaps
mortal! Now, what styptics, what antiphlogistics ought to be employed? By
what means could inflammation be prevented?

At any rate, the most important thing was that the two wounds should be
dressed without delay. It did not appear necessary to Gideon Spilett that
a fresh flow of blood should be caused by bathing them in tepid water, and
compressing their lips. The hemorrhage had been very abundant, and Herbert
was already too much enfeebled by the loss of blood.

The reporter, therefore, thought it best to simply bathe the two wounds
with cold water.

Herbert was placed on his left side, and was maintained in that position.

"He must not be moved." said Gideon Spilett. "He is in the most favorable
position for the wounds in his back and chest to suppurate easily, and
absolute rest is necessary."

"What! can't we carry him to Granite House?" asked Pencroft.

"No, Pencroft," replied the reporter.

"I'll pay the villains off!" cried the sailor, shaking his fist in a
menacing manner.

"Pencroft!" said Cyrus Harding.

Gideon Spilett had resumed his examination of the wounded boy. Herbert was
still so frightfully pale, that the reporter felt anxious.

"Cyrus," said he, "I am not a surgeon. I am in terrible perplexity. You
must aid me with your advice, your experience!"

These words restored to Gideon Spilett that self-possession which he had
lost in a moment of discouragement on feeling his great responsibility. He
seated himself close to the bed. Cyrus Harding stood near. Pencroft had
torn up his shirt, and was mechanically making lint.

Spilett then explained to Cyrus Harding that he thought he ought first of
all to stop the hemorrhage, but not close the two wounds, or cause their
immediate cicatrization, for there had been internal perforation, and the
suppuration must not be allowed to accumulate in the chest.

Harding approved entirely, and it was decided that the two wounds should
be dressed without attempting to close them by immediate coaptation.

And now did the colonists possess an efficacious agent to act against the
inflammation which might occur?

Yes. They had one, for nature had generously lavished it. They had cold
water, that is to say, the most powerful sedative that can be employed
against inflammation of wounds, the most efficacious therapeutic agent in
grave cases, and the one which is now adopted by all physicians. Cold
water has, moreover, the advantage of leaving the wound in absolute rest,
and preserving it from all premature dressing, a considerable advantage,
since it has been found by experience that contact with the air is
dangerous during the first days.

Gideon Spilett and Cyrus Harding reasoned thus with their simple good
sense, and they acted as the best surgeon would have done. Compresses of
linen were applied to poor Herbert's two wounds, and were kept constantly
wet with cold water.

The sailor had at first lighted a fire in the hut, which was not wanting
in things necessary for life. Maple sugar, medicinal plants, the same
which the lad had gathered on the banks of Lake Grant, enabled them to
make some refreshing drinks, which they gave him without his taking any
notice of it. His fever was extremely high, and all that day and night
passed without his becoming conscious.

Herbert's life hung on a thread, and this thread might break at any
moment. The next day, the 12th of November, the hopes of Harding and his
companions slightly revived. Herbert had come out of his long stupor. He
opened his eyes, he recognized Cyrus Harding, the reporter, and Pencroft.
He uttered two or three words. He did not know what had happened. They
told him, and Spilett begged him to remain perfectly still, telling him
that his life was not in danger, and that his wounds would heal in a few
days. However, Herbert scarcely suffered at all, and the cold water with
which they were constantly bathed, prevented any inflammation of the
wounds. The suppuration was established in a regular way, the fever did
not increase, and it might now be hoped that this terrible wound would not
involve any catastrophe. Pencroft felt the swelling of his heart gradually
subside. He was like a sister of mercy, like a mother by the bed of her
child.

Herbert dozed again, but his sleep appeared more natural.

"Tell me again that you hope, Mr. Spilett," said Pencroft. "Tell me again
that you will save Herbert!"

"Yes, we will save him!" replied the reporter. "The wound is serious, and,
perhaps, even the ball has traversed the lungs, but the perforation of
this organ is not fatal."

"God bless you!" answered Pencroft.

As may be believed, during the four-and-twenty hours they had been in the
corral, the colonists had no other thought than that of nursing Herbert.
They did not think either of the danger which threatened them should the
convicts return, or of the precautions to be taken for the future.

But on this day, while Pencroft watched by the sick-bed, Cyrus Harding and
the reporter consulted as to what it would be best to do.

First of all they examined the corral. There was not a trace of Ayrton.
Had the unhappy man been dragged away by his former accomplices? Had he
resisted, and been overcome in the struggle? This last supposition was
only too probable. Gideon Spilett, at the moment he scaled the palisade,
had clearly seen some one of the convicts running along the southern spur
of Mount Franklin, towards whom Top had sprung. It was one of those whose
object had been so completely defeated by the rocks at the mouth of the
Mercy. Besides, the one killed by Harding, and whose body was found
outside the enclosure, of course belonged to Bob Harvey's crew.

As to the corral, it had not suffered any damage. The gates were closed,
and the animals had not been able to disperse in the forest. Nor could
they see traces of any struggle, any devastation, either in the hut, or in
the palisade. The ammunition only, with which Ayrton had been supplied,
had disappeared with him.

"The unhappy man has been surprised," said Harding, "and as he was a man
to defend himself, he must have been overpowered."

"Yes, that is to be feared!" said the reporter. "Then, doubtless, the
convicts installed themselves in the corral where they found plenty of
everything, and only fled when they saw us coming. It is very evident,
too, that at this moment Ayrton, whether living or dead, is not here!"

"We shall have to beat the forest," said the engineer, "and rid the island
of these wretches. Pencroft's presentiments were not mistaken, when he
wished to hunt them as wild beasts. That would have spared us all these
misfortunes!"

"Yes," answered the reporter, "but now we have the right to be merciless!"

"At any rate," said the engineer, "we are obliged to wait some time, and
to remain at the corral until we can carry Herbert without danger to
Granite House."

"But Neb?" asked the reporter.

"Neb is in safety."

"But if, uneasy at our absence, he would venture to come?"

"He must not come!" returned Cyrus Harding quickly. "He would be murdered
on the road!"

"It is very probable, however, that he will attempt to rejoin us!"

"Ah, if the telegraph still acted, he might be warned! But that is
impossible now! As to leaving Pencroft and Herbert here alone, we could
not do it! Well, I will go alone to Granite House."

"No, no! Cyrus," answered the reporter, "you must not expose yourself!
Your courage would be of no avail. The villains are evidently watching the
corral, they are hidden in the thick woods which surround it, and if you
go we shall soon have to regret two misfortunes instead of one!"

"But Neb?" repeated the engineer. "It is now four-and-twenty hours since
he has had any news of us! He will be sure to come!"

"And as he will be less on his guard than we should be ourselves," added
Spilett, "he will be killed!"

"Is there really no way of warning him?"

While the engineer thought, his eyes fell on Top, who, going backwards and
forwards seemed to say,—

"Am not I here?"

"Top!" exclaimed Cyrus Harding.

The animal sprang at his master's call.

"Yes, Top will go," said the reporter, who had understood the engineer.

"Top can go where we cannot! He will carry to Granite House the news of
the corral, and he will bring back to us that from Granite House!"

"Quick!" said Harding. "Quick!"

Spilett rapidly tore a leaf from his note-book, and wrote these words:—

"Herbert wounded. We are at the corral. Be on your guard. Do not leave
Granite House. Have the convicts appeared in the neighborhood? Reply by
Top."

This laconic note contained all that Neb ought to know, and at the same
time asked all that the colonists wished to know. It was folded and
fastened to Top's collar in a conspicuous position.

Top bounded at these words. He understood, he knew what was expected of
him. The road to the corral was familiar to him. In less than an hour he
could clear it, and it might be hoped that where neither Cyrus Harding nor
the reporter could have ventured without danger, Top, running among the
grass or in the wood, would pass unperceived.

The engineer went to the gate of the corral and opened it.

"Neb, Top! Neb!" repeated the engineer, again pointing in the direction of
Granite House.

Top sprang forwards, then almost immediately disappeared.

"He will get there!" said the reporter.

"Yes, and he will come back, the faithful animal!"

"What o'clock is it?" asked Gideon Spilett.

"Ten."

"In an hour he may be here. We will watch for his return."

The gate of the corral was closed. The engineer and the reporter
re-entered the house. Herbert was still in a sleep. Pencroft kept the
compresses always wet. Spilett, seeing there was nothing he could do at
that moment, busied himself in preparing some nourishment, while
attentively watching that part of the enclosure against the hill, at which
an attack might be expected.

The settlers awaited Top's return with much anxiety. A little before
eleven o'clock, Cyrus Harding and the reporter, rifle in hand, were behind
the gate, ready to open it at the first bark of their dog.

They did not doubt that if Top had arrived safely at Granite House, Neb
would have sent him back immediately.

They had both been there for about ten minutes, when a report was heard,
followed by repeated barks.

The engineer opened the gate, and seeing smoke a hundred feet off in the
wood, he fired in that direction.

Almost immediately Top bounded into the corral, and the gate was quickly
shut.

"Top, Top!" exclaimed the engineer, taking the dog's great honest head
between his hands.

A note was fastened to his neck, and Cyrus Harding read these words,
traced in Neb's large writing:—"No pirates in the neighborhood of
Granite House. I will not stir. Poor Mr. Herbert!"

Chapter 8

So the convicts were still there, watching the corral, and determined to
kill the settlers one after the other. There was nothing to be done but to
treat them as wild beasts. But great precautions must be taken, for just
now the wretches had the advantage on their side, seeing, and not being
seen, being able to surprise by the suddenness of their attack, yet not to
be surprised themselves. Harding made arrangements, therefore, for living
in the corral, of which the provisions would last for a tolerable length
of time. Ayrton's house had been provided with all that was necessary for
existence, and the convicts, scared by the arrival of the settlers, had
not had time to pillage it. It was probable, as Gideon Spilett observed,
that things had occurred as follows:

The six convicts, disembarking on the island, had followed the southern
shore, and after having traversed the double shore of the Serpentine
Peninsula, not being inclined to venture into the Far West woods, they had
reached the mouth of Falls River. From this point, by following the right
bank of the watercourse, they would arrive at the spurs of Mount Franklin,
among which they would naturally seek a retreat, and they could not have
been long in discovering the corral, then uninhabited. There they had
regularly installed themselves, awaiting the moment to put their
abominable schemes into execution. Ayrton's arrival had surprised them,
but they had managed to overpower the unfortunate man, and—the rest
may be easily imagined!

Now, the convicts,—reduced to five, it is true, but well armed,—were
roaming the woods, and to venture there was to expose themselves to their
attacks, which could be neither guarded against nor prevented.